Where Do We Go From Here?

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Everyone recommends writing things down, they say it helps give one clarity”. I hate writing things down,it is too close to accepting  defeat. It is a seal of everything, it is an  end for me, it is too final_it happened and now it has ended-The End. Whilst when it stays in mind, intertwined with my thoughts, it is just there floating endlessly, open. I don’t want it to end, I don’t accept that it has ended. 

He sits on the edge of my bed, watching me as I carefully apply lotion on my body, I catch his stare and smile, I want to tell him again how beautiful his eyes are but I am interrupted with a question, “what are your intentions with me”. I laugh like how I usually do when I am trying to avoid answering a question. He asks again, this time with more seriousness to it as he holds my stare, I laugh again giving myself time to think of a perfect response, a response which doesn’t scare him off or expose me, I fail, and I just stare back at him instead. He takes that as a response.

I am what people make fun of; I don’t really mind as I already consider myself a cliché. I like the things someone like me should like Théâtre, classical music, books, poetry coffee shops, deep and original conversations (there it is) and anything stereotypical that falls within that aesthetic. I am artsy(even though no one uses that word on themselves) and I like artsy things, people. Everything I am or would like to be is dictated by the things I like and so, I live a slow life, consider myself a romantic and like to experience people in all of their wholeness. Sometimes though, I like to have a little fun and try to live life the exact opposite of what I think I am and so, instead of being predictable and careful, I become unpredictable and careless and that is where my story, rather our story began.



When telling this story, I am taken back to the day we first met, and I beat myself up for not remembering the minor details like _what the weather was like, how the traffic flowed, because I was too preoccupied with taking him all in. I saw him and realized right away that I had no choice but to love him. He held me, and it felt like being welcomed back home after a long, tiresome trip!

(I DONT KNOW WHERE TO GO WITH THIS FROM HERE....,)

There is a lot of want to talk about with you, but I am left with no choice but to hold these conversations alone, my mind has a different story to tell, my mind has stories to tell, because  in my mind, OUR story never ends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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