Try, At Your Own Risk, To Imagine

Not too long ago, as I sat in the mess hall devouring my second helping of Palabok, I uttered affectionately (read: emotion-packed) into my plate of pasta:

"I have spent half of my life without you."

And that I said to a plate of Palabok, a dish I wasn't acquianted with until I was 11 years old.

Now take that into consideration and try to imagine just what I'd say when I finally talk to the man Gods intends for me.

Dizzying implications, I know.