Dear Zuza

Last night I came up with an idea for my blog.

A friend in London who I have been helping for her web video series insisted that I should blog. But I’ve never been sure about it. You know, I’m fond of social media and social media websites have been my playground since I was a teenager. But blogging was never my thing. I’ve given up my attempts to blog so many times whilst writing the first entry where I would be lamenting about my inability and lack of motivation to keep a blog.

I need a specific audience and/or style for it. I also want feedback because interaction basically gives the most effective motivation to me to do anything. In a nutshell, I want someone’s attention. I’m not the kind of person who can do something just for him/herself. And I figured out that I can probably write you regularly even if you have no time to read it.

I think of you very often. In fact, I have been thinking about what you’ve said to me and our plans for interesting (well, perhaps it’d be premature to call them ‘exciting’) projects and things we’d do on our free times when you’re back from Poland.

Sometimes I hate myself for how I think about your passing. I didn’t really want to say anything in the public space about it because I had mixed emotions—I don’t know if I have any emotions at all—I don’t know if I’m sad, happy, or frustrated. I don’t even know if I’m suffering.

But I know that I’m disappointed because we missed a fun experimental tea time at my new place in Pimlico. That was a real disappointment. I was getting very impatient about this plan and have been counting days before I buy some xylitol for your tea. Each time I went to my local grocery stores, I felt tempted to check the shelves to find exotic food additives. I kept telling myself that I can ask you if you want to shop with me since I had several major grocery places near my house.

Somewhere in my system, I still cannot believe that it’s not possible to hang out with you anymore while somewhere in my mind I completely comprehend the situation and taking a rather rational solution to accept how it happened. But, argh, this is why I hate to talk about how I feel about it.

I just want to talk to you once again.

Anyway, I think I’ll write soon and will explain what I meant here in detail if I’m brave enough to do so.

Ciao, Zuza. Have a good night.


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