Disposable words, fumbled words and words unspoken.

By hux1ey · Dec 14, 2012 ·
  1. hux1ey
    During those long nights alone, just me, my glass pipe, and maybe some vodka, with every bass heavy mixtape I can find blaring through my headphones, I’ve started to spend more and more time having random disposable conversations on Omegle. Text only, I just don’t feel like talking aloud, or filtering out those legions of cock-wielding masterbators.

    Sober me can’t stand the site, but tweaking in the early hours, it seems as good a place as any to try and make some kind of connection with another human being, however momentary. Admittedly, I spend most of that time disconnecting from, and being disconnected by dudes trying to pick up or text out their sexual fantasies.

    /rant Now that shit just makes no fucking sense to me; surely if it’s a date you’re looking for, then a dating site is going be a better place to look for it than a site where you’re almost guaranteed to be chatting to people living oceans and continents away. And if it’s a wank you want, it’s not like the internet is short on porn - text, images, video, whatever tickles your fancy, with each and every kink catered for! /end rant

    Anyway, one sleepless night, maybe two weeks ago, I had a strange and extended conversation with this 19 year old girl from Korea. I had fun! Her english was very basic, but peppered with cute little phrasings you’d never hear from native speakers, like “My eyes want to see the beach at Bondi” and for all that she fumbled with grammar and word choice, there was no hiding that I was talking to a pretty intelligent and engaged mind.

    So when she asked if I could stay in touch, and help her with her English, I jumped at the chance and said ‘yes’! I was delighted to.

    We’ve exchanged a few emails since then, and now the pace of our correspondance seems to have slowed. Her messages are still gushing with compliments and gratitude, but there’s something ambivalent about them, uncertain, as her words approach, but never quite give voice to one question, the great big saggy elephant squatted right there between us in the room; Why?

    Why am I putting all this time into a complete stranger?

    What do I want?

    Why do I break down these words and ideas to open up about myself to some teenage girl over five thousand miles, thirteen years, and one whole language apart?

    What am I expecting?

    And I just don’t know how to tell her. It's simple really.

    I’m lonely.

    And sometimes her words make me smile.​

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