Chapter Text
Tom
Luke
" You created a tumblr to stalk her"
"Yes, I created a tumblr to stalk her"
"sarcasm doesn't fit you"
"Luke! I created it to know what happened in those 3 years"
"I thought you moved on"
"I'm a great actor"
"Tom, I don't think that's healthy"
"and just because they and by they I mean; Mark, Ben, Martin and god help us all Moffat, gave you her tumblr blog-"
"I get it, I do, but Luke...closure is what I need and this is the only way I know how..."
"...just don't do anything stupid that would ruin your career...you've come a long way now"
"thank you"
June 4 2010
The funny thing about life is that we begin to die the moment we are born and I find it poetically beautiful. The fact that everything ends the moment it begins is wonderful. And today is the End for me. Like a story that has run its course, it is time for the curtain to fall, I've finished everything necessary for me to graduate and all that's left is resolving whatever needs to be resolve.
Regardless of whoever reads this dubious blog entry...highly doubtful regardless let me tell you a story , it is a series of misfortunate events. It all started a week before this years valentines day. Working as an intern is fun precisely because I am almost near in my goal my colleagues on the other hand are an entirely different matter. Put under constant scrutiny I have learned to not trust anyone and divulge little information about myself personal or otherwise which leaves me friendless and utterly alone in this foreign country which I have come to love. A few days of increasing misanthropy and apathy my older sister arrives and it is utter hell. My relationship with her has always been a rollercoaster, parts of my childhood field with hero-worship then hatred followed by my adolescence where I enter a truce with her then my teenage life where we are particularly close. When college came it went downhill, her attemtps to control me aggravated me and years of suppressed hatred comes out which lead to our inevitable fall out.
Which brought me to accept my early internship here in London, far away from home or what I used to call home, then she arrives here without notice and asks for lodging, awkward and tension filled cohabitation occurs. Then I met this person...on valentine's after getting slightly tipsy, the thing is this person was not someone I knew.
Yeah stranger danger now shut up. Now the reason for this being labeled as a misfortunate event would be revealed later on. I am afterall telling a story.
It all started due to my idiocy when my finger slipped and I mispunched a number in my mobile. Asking to be picked up by my atleast dependable older sister instead I am answered by a polite english man who informed me of this mistake, embarrassing yes. I took a cab home and scaled my flat because I really really did not want to see my older sister. There are somethings even I cannot handle.
Not let me get off tangent for awhile and if you don't want me to do so then sod off.
There's a reason why I'm telling this story right now instead of telling what happened to me on the very same day of feb 14. The reason would be because this man, this complete and utter stranger I have met by a finger slip had somehow become a constant in my otherwise dull life.
On with the story, this unbelievable man, texts me the following day asking about my wellbeing
'Did you arrive safe' he asks and for that moment I was utterly baffled and amused so I replied
'Hi! Mr. Wrong Number! :) thanks for your concern or curiosity? I did get home safe ;)'
for some unfathomable reason I answered him without my cold and indifferent texts and later on I would have been informed we were flirting with eachother but until then I only found myself becoming friends with this stranger who is slightly altruistic...or just that good, such goodness that irks me, me who hates humanity at the same breathe as having faith for it at the very least.
And this continues on for days, we settled to a routine of always texting each other when bored, we were ridiculous keeping count of how long we've been talking and our off tangent conversations that never ceased to amuse me at the same time we were both avoiding certain questions. There are somethings which I would never tell him but in the face of anonymity I could allow to bare a bit of my soul. Because writing is an art and I am an artist and that is what artists do, we heal ourselves in the expense of exposing our souls and own wounds. And it is here where I would tell the words that were never sent and would never be.
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