Sweet Flute in Love Is Not Slim

Sweet Flute in Love Is Not Slim

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The reality of the love life of young men I now see from my own glasses. I rack my brain to find the sweeter of my life than the others. Sometimes I feel superficial to see, sometimes I feel too deep to dive. So I no longer careful to distinguish where pseudo certainty and which answers to wait for. This is because I myself have been so diligent in maintaining anxiety to get certain in life. Especially the certainty of the 700 km relationship I'm living. Yes, I can say I'm the one who fought for love at a distance. At first I pretended I could, but I'm sure I'll get used to it later.

Drove with long distance connection? Of course. Although the presence of a lover has come to life, I am afraid that this fate will suddenly disappear. At first my heart felt sad will the difference in distance is so far able to bring my story to a brighter direction. I heard from many people that Long Distance Relationship (LDR) is a very difficult ordeal for lovers of romance. Like the word test, difficult issues have many options which must be answered with an erratic essay of his theory. And word for word that comes out of people's mouths is still a word. I feel for myself how much more tormented it is than what they say. Faithful alone is not enough cure. Meetings that are almost never let alone.

I have to be tough even though this longing is very jarring. The hoax is ordinary, sad is certain, miss it absolute. I have to fight this kind of sad feeling. I still have hobbies and self-paced activities. This ordinary hoax as soon as I have to make as a cool chaos.

Usually I look at the sky with a look of nanar. Imagining a captivating look that I have not seen very long. Hope if the shadows of her face are refracted with the dim sunlight. More meaningful activity I did not get. Only the longing and longing that urges me to keep silent. My window is still here, open next to my favorite table. I saw the pen still with the lid. Just like me who still keeps the same feelings for her. But apparently now my hands are destined to do different activities. No longer lingering on my chin, I scratched every drop of pen ink on paper to kill time. I'm sure if every story and news I wrote on the net of this paper would be able to help me achieve my dreams. Not a writer, but to me whatever a person's profession if he never wants to write it is futile is the journey of his life. Armed with the belief that sharing a piece of writing for others is happy, there is no other reason to defend the error of sharing the worries only with oneself. Often I also send my writings to my beloved. In this practical era of course my writings immediately get a response from the him. He was glad that the seconds of my waiting for him I could row into rows of beautiful sentences to read.

Slowly the sense of sharing that exists within me develops. Writing requires not only thought and ideas, but also a sincere heart. Tired? Only slightly. Someone once told me that there would be no output when there was no input. The technical language is a bit offensive to the nerves of my consciousness. Although my writing is getting better, what's wrong with self-indulgence is still done. While self-preserving still many ways. Write in waiting like knitting a thread while walking. If now from far away the lover just listened to my story, slowly later this distance is only a span until he accompanied the days beside me and always inspired me.

My self-indulgence as a woman is unlike any other woman. If they are busy into the salon for grooming, I'm one of hundreds of people who like to eat. Taste of food that I have no doubt. It's time in the middle of exhaustion I mix food. Again I'm upset. Confused what foods I will serve. Finally I decided to prepare a European menu with a variety of pasta: spaghetti, macaroni, fettuccine, and lasagna, and three flavored ice cream: young coconut, vanilla, and jackfruit. Not just choose the menu, behind it I have a separate reason that I created. And to find the reason itself I was upset. After I finish cooking, eating it myself like reducing flavor, tasteless. I still have a long-distance love that adds to the taste of my cooking. I did a video call with my beloved, I pointed out that the pampering myself became one of my paths for self-immolation.

Beloved wondering, Why European cuisine, not Sunda?

I say, you are in Bandung, I'm in Surabaya, then why do not we dream beautiful to live together out there?

KekaThis is the journey of my love, where the day the lover's return closer. Long distance connections can be short. As long as we constantly perpetuate ourselves. No doubt the uncertainty will be ignored. Our encounter and togetherness really deserve to be grateful. Keeping this blessing is always bored so that we who both have come to be the main character of this story can not just disappear.

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