(YEAH! BOOKS BOTSWANA DEBATE TOURNAMENT 2012! This is the speech that got me 2nd Place! )
Staring
at a screen at midnight is now a normal occurrence for people of today. Though
not of a T.V, but of a laptop. A Windows XP, Vista capable, Windows 7 illegally
installed and 'stuck-on-Safe Mode' laptop. I wonder of how the night would have
spoken to me a year ago. I slowly forget who I was. I will forget.
Those words on my screen. Are they a final plea?
Only earlier I was simply saying “hi.” Tap-tapping the two letters with indifferent ease. I, the tired touch typist look to elsewhere, dreaming as I work my fingers across the raised body of the keyboard.
“Hey hey,” a response soft, soft as her voice.
I can only remember; I can only forget.
Do you miss me?
Of course you do.
Do I miss you?
It's not even a question.
Then what now?
Should I try again?
Should we try again?
What would your friend say?
And...
What do we miss about each other?
She misses the hugs. That's the first thing she says. But when I get to the point of that I miss not being alone... I realize why we say these things.
A hug is a hug. You can get a hug from anyone. Loneliness? Everyone feels lonely, and everybody lies about it. We miss each other because we're human.
And that is simply so.
She says she misses “the Form One days.”
But do I? With all the new books I read I find myself enriched. Is intelligence worth more than her?
Maybe that's the message I outputted by skipping a grade and leaving her behind. I tell her in response that I miss the free stuff. I mean, chocolate is chocolate. It's not abstract and as bittersweet like stupid words like 'love.'
And then she says it. And they I can't help but be indifferent but touched.
She types:
“I miss saying I love you.”
She logs off.
I am alone.
At the very least, I knew at that moment past midnight, that I'd have something to say here at the Public Speaking Tournament.
I'm logging off Twitter.
Those words on my screen. Are they a final plea?
Only earlier I was simply saying “hi.” Tap-tapping the two letters with indifferent ease. I, the tired touch typist look to elsewhere, dreaming as I work my fingers across the raised body of the keyboard.
“Hey hey,” a response soft, soft as her voice.
I can only remember; I can only forget.
Do you miss me?
Of course you do.
Do I miss you?
It's not even a question.
Then what now?
Should I try again?
Should we try again?
What would your friend say?
And...
What do we miss about each other?
She misses the hugs. That's the first thing she says. But when I get to the point of that I miss not being alone... I realize why we say these things.
A hug is a hug. You can get a hug from anyone. Loneliness? Everyone feels lonely, and everybody lies about it. We miss each other because we're human.
And that is simply so.
She says she misses “the Form One days.”
But do I? With all the new books I read I find myself enriched. Is intelligence worth more than her?
Maybe that's the message I outputted by skipping a grade and leaving her behind. I tell her in response that I miss the free stuff. I mean, chocolate is chocolate. It's not abstract and as bittersweet like stupid words like 'love.'
And then she says it. And they I can't help but be indifferent but touched.
She types:
“I miss saying I love you.”
She logs off.
I am alone.
At the very least, I knew at that moment past midnight, that I'd have something to say here at the Public Speaking Tournament.
I'm logging off Twitter.
