Cagey tigers.
kitten   January 25, 2006

Don't you forget about me.

The cruelest cut.
kitten   January 13, 2006

"Mister Watson, come here."

These were the first words spoken over the device Alexander Graham Bell had patented, by the man himself. It's easy to imagine how he thought his invention would make the world a better place. Wars would no longer have to be faught, lovers need no longer pine, for communication could now be immediate, instantaneous, and surely, he thought, this would put an end to the strife and misery. If communication is the key to understanding, then his telephone would dissolve the boundaries.

But blessings often come with a curse, Mr Bell. For now that communication is easy, lack of communication is all the more pointed. No longer can one hope for a letter in the mail, or be assured that it's on its way. And surely, one can be forgiven for not finding the time at a whim to sit and pen a thoughtful missive, address it, get to a post office.

No, things are much easier now. Reach out and touch someone. And with the advent of cellular phones, it can be even done on the go. From a car, from the workplace. A call can be made while walking between classes, while waiting in line, while having a cigarette outside. There are no shortage of opportunities.

And so, when no call is made, it isn't for lack of time, but for lack of effort or desire. The silence becomes a deafening roar of rejection, a deliberate avoidance. A phone now holds a sort of talismanic significance, and a phone that fails to ring with a hoped-for call does so stubbornly, with malice.

All of this means that your silence speaks volumes; perhaps more than your words ever did.

Downward.
kitten   January 5, 2006

I am kitten's inflamed sense of rejection.