where you start to wonder where she is. why haven't you heard from her? it's very uncharacteristic. you've talked to her every day. where is she? she's doing something bad to herself. she didn't sound right the last time you talked. there was something in her tone. a quiver maybe. you don't even know where she lives. stupid girl. stupid, impulsive, repulsive, antagonistic, alluring girl! how can you save her if you don't know where she lives? phone book! what's her last name, sherlock? no, didn't think so. anonymous. probably never really existed at all. just a fantastic illusion to keep your delusions company. fuck! you need to find her. you need to know she's real and safe. you need her! what will you do, then? how will you bring her out? what can you possibly do to help her? this isn't a tv show. you can't get superpowers and telepathically communicate. you have to wait. you have to suffer the fear and ignorance. you have to feel as if you're to blame for everything that you're imagining happened to her. waiting. you've always hated the waiting.
what exactly is the minimum quota for cryptic blogging? i do it, you do it, all us bloggers seem to do it.
i think someone should do a phd on it. not it itself, but rather why we do it and what purpose it serves us psychologically.
oh, and btw, i know about the carpet stains, and why can i no longer see the flowers in your eyes?
what's cryptic about that?