I’ve been writing a lot lately. I blame him. But I actually like this increased urge to jot down my thoughts. I’ve improved my writing as compared to my blogspot days. I’ve learned to be more direct to the point. I don’t use highfalutin words like abrogate, ebullient, hackneyed and obstreperous in one sentence anymore.
Anyway, countless times have I thought of what-if scenarios about being born years earlier because of being way too fond of older people in my life. (Don’t worry, I won’t go on enumerating the professors I’ve admired just to prove my point.) But then, things would be different if I were of the same age as them. After repeatedly reaching the same conclusion, I end up rejecting that fictitious version of reality. I’d rather have a stretch of timeline separate us, even if it means being a mere spectator at some point or another.
It’s that hazy father figure again. I’ve read somewhere that when girls have daddy issues, they tend to look for older men. They (or dare I say, we) crave for the closeness from a dude years ahead of us. I’m guessing it’s to compensate for that wee bit of emotional void.
I’m particularly interested in him. He’s my favorite part of the design problem; the post-programming, the part where I struggle to organize the spatial requirements together like a snug puzzle. He’s a superb fit to my life. But why do I feel like it’s not enough to fill the vacuum inside me?