Morose code

i wrote this is my journal but here it is again.

one day i was tapping idly on D's arm, and he asked me to repeat it slowly as he wasn't very good at Morse code. i said it wasn't Morse code at all, but maybe it was Morose code ("i'm depressed, i'll never amount to anything, what's so good about life anyway?") or perhaps Remorse code ("i'm sorry, i didn't mean it, if i could take back what i said, i would").

we thought it very funny at the time but it's sort of sad, and sort of true, in retrospect. sometimes people don't say what they mean out loud, and try to communicate with gestures and fidgets and body language. the trick is figuring out which code is being used, and that messages are being sent at all.