we don't know what we are talking about when we talk about love.

a phrase u saw in a book by Raymond Carver.



dear p,

as i told u, this really made me think hard. big time.

it this was real, then what have i been so sad for all this time?

i wondered.

x said sometimes we don't know what we r holding in our hands. what we r holding might have changed to somthing else and we just don't have a clue.

he might have changed. either b4 the incident or after, he might have just become somebody i no longer recognize.


-- i am stuck with myself in the pond of past.

all these time i though i knew what love is. but i don't. i just know what love is to me, TO ME.

that's only how it appears to me, but necessarily what it really is.


i am confused, so much.