communication. a maze. amazement.

I dream of a machine that would convey my intentions and aims to people around me, and at the same time make their situation and reasoning clear to me. A wonderful device that would translate the communicated content into the direct and open one; the causing content. In my institute there should be an additional department apart from the English, German, Russian, French and Spanish sections; the department of applied linguistics of emotions, the major of implied content translation and the specialization in empathy. Maybe I would learn there how to explain that when I'm at my parents' place and in the evening I ask my mother to make a sandwich for me, then it's not because I'm a bloody childish lazy thing who will expect her mother to serve her for the rest of her life, and not even because I'm hungry, but because she has been out all day long and I'm dying to have something prepared by her hands, invented by her mind. Perhaps if she had known it, she wouldn't have threaten me with a kick in my ass.
Or maybe she perfectly knows my intentions and that is why the next day, when I'm leaving, she gets a basket of delicacies ready for me and behaves like a fairy godmother all morning.
Love is frightening. It's not even being tied to someone with strings; it's being as close to someone as you can get, shoulder to shoulder. One move can make the other person bruised and wounded.
And there's no way for you to set yourself free because it would be against your will, your desire and all the yearning of yours.