I wonder if the sun is truly 93 million miles away. On afternoons like these, it sure as heavens feels a lot closer. I can feel myself burning into obscurity. Ok sorry, I tend to be overly dramatic. Enough of the theatrics. Lets move on to other small talk.
When I was in school, I had a crush on a girl cause she was not only pretty, but it seems she had her head fixed on right too. Mine sometimes senget, like a side braid swek, except I cut my hurr, don't curr. On her friendster profile description, she wrote, 'not one for small talk'.
Since she was beautiful, cool, smart and stated that she's not one for small talk, I concluded that small talk is bad and pretended like I too hated small talk. Nigga talk is big and all about the braggodocio. Plus, you can sometimes get away with the impression that you're a passionate person with opinions and all, through hate. Hate seems to arrive at a conviction much faster than love.
I was quite well baked in the oven of peer pressure. It took me a decade later to realize that when it came to small talk, I've defeated the last boss, won the black belt in 32 bit, and achieved a level of finesse and mastery in the art of schmooze. Hiii power to the third degree. Yawk yawk yawk.
Maybe I'm a bird, and I'll fly with wings, not of this earth. But methinks I'm more like a feather, lying on the lap of a certain Tom Hanks, thinking if life is a box of chocolates, let's devour it.
See, 5 paragraphs in, and I talked about nothing at all. Now who bause.
- love and light, adrenalene