I don't look down anymore. My fingers take on a life of there own when spelling out all the things my mind aches to say, it's never enough though, there job is never complete. The message pops up : ...has signed off, before my sentence is through and i beg for the courage to call you. My voice is a coward, my ear to ashamed to be given the privilege of hearing your voice. I wonder where all this comes from but I'm to angry to think. To emotional to even attempt...even my fingers have lost there will to talk, to say what I am to chicken to speak.
My courage is this keyboard, the comfort in know that you can't see me; the way that sarcasm and sadness cannot be conveyed by this faceless medium the world has flocked to for release. I am just another flash of ones and zero's traveling sightlessly across the void of human connection. The irony is, connection is what we are seeking.
My fingers connecting to you. Your refusal to accept them.