When the Wind Blows

Funny how not hearing from you in the past 24-hours has so easily caused me insomnia. I can be a pain in the ass to myself sometimes. Ever since that confession episode, you've dilligently acknowledged me everywhere my name's popped up. So unlike you. And you even bought top up to text me in the dead of the night, just like old times. How thoughtful.
But to tell you the absolute truth, it kinda got on my nerves.
After telling you about how I felt, I wasn't so sure about my feelings anymore. Call it an abrupt personality disorder, blame it on my teenage hormones, do whatever. That was the plain truth. How selfish of me.
And last night, our conversation died before it even got the chance to take its first breath. I'm guessing that your stupid phone was the culprit. Amazingly, I didn't freak out and jump to a million different "colourful" conclusions. Back to proofreading assignments it was, backache and all.
The morning had a surprise in store for me. You could call it pleasant, I suppose. The red light on my Blackberry kept blinking incessantly. One missed call. A Shah Alam number. You. Or at least I hoped it was. The next thing that sprang to mind was that I had slept like a log. Reading hundreds of pages of broken English will do that to you. I couldn't help a small smile to myself. Wow. That was rare.
After shaking off the last dregs of sleep, my brilliant brain (I'll be vain just this once, I promise) came up with a theory. If you didn't text me tonight, then that definitely was, without a single trace of doubt, your house number that was on my missed calls list and not some pervert that's been trying to get my attention. Some people just don't get it. Morons.
Tick tock. Tick tock. 24 hours gone. No word from you.
Bravo, Mundi. Bravo.
I told you I was brilliant.
So much for you getting on my nerves for saying hi too many times. When it's right in front of me, I shove it away; when it's out of my grasp, I want it badly.
What can I say? I always want what I can't have. Bad habit.
Tsk tsk.