Let me be in love with you.

Little did i know it would turn out this way. Wasn’t it all just a faded ochre like the beer we drank but you felt like the smoke which exhaled through my system, well most of it, and left a little inside me. Stuck to me leaving stains. 

Believe me, I’m living on these stains but I wish for so much more. This is the first time I’m saying it out loud this way because honestly I don’t have the strength to. I don’t have the strength anymore to let you cuddle me, caress me and kiss the innumerable times you do. I don’t have the strength to look at you smiling and imagine us in a parallel perfect world. I don’t have the strength to hear you say no to me, or worse, say that you love me. 

I accept that’s going too far in this godforsaken 21st century. But it’s been too long for me in a good way and in a bad way. 

So this is my open love letter to you, the one you’ll never come across. 

Let me tell you, 

I don’t trust you. I can’t keep up with you. I go crazy everytime you smile. Your smell lingers on my tee shirts even after I have washed them way too many times. I hate that messy hair of yours and your well fitted tee shirts which falls on your body like your second skin. I feel like kissing your lips whenever I feel lost and only you can save me. All of this is so corny and maybe that is exactly why I’m losing it. And I’m not used to losing it. 

I wanna say things like, please choose me, pick me, love me! Talk to me for hours without getting tired and kiss me when I act silly. Why would you smell my hair? You don’t even remember my smell. You don’t miss me. You don’t even like me. 

What I’m writing here is no piece of literature and is not reading worthy for shit. But I had to tell you. I want to fall in love with you. I want to let myself love you and tell you that I do and be irrevocably happy about it. You are so wrong a guy that I can’t even begin to imagine. You are sloppy I’m sure, careless, laid back, lazy and rich. You are rich and I can’t keep up with you. Every little bit of me melts into whatever I have seen of you and you aren’t helping me stop. Maybe you are. Maybe you actually are but I can’t stop. 

So yeah, 

This is my rant about how much I want to be in love with you and live in the perfect parallel universe where you think of me and I think of you without any holding back. 

I want to be in love with you. 

Monotony.

Over and over and over Again. Again and again and again. Same, same, same as always. Always, Always, Always.

Those same red curtains swaying in the wind in the early summers of our early twenties. The same deep brown blower on the top of our heads rotating making this creaking noise which I had not heard till very recently. Those pale Fight Club and Godfather posters on that under toned yellow wall. That broken computer which somehow looks awfully fit for it’s real condition sitting on that ironically organised desk. The floor left so empty and always cold even in the heat, which gets covered with scattered clothes in the presence of two breathing souls, That one mattress neatly covered never getting undone even if wars are fought on it every evening.

The same round red table having those filled  empty chairs around it making sounds of fear laughter, loss ideas, chaos excitement and emptiness joy. Another blower but this time black, on the top of the heads. A flat bread with a bird in it and some underground roots and of course the Italian taste in it, one in every one’s hand. A static lasting containment smile on everyone’s face.

Occassionaly, kisses on the forehead, hugs from strangers, promises of lost souls and of course the assurance of permanance lurking around everywhere.

But not always does the little mongrel come to say hello or the old man smokes a cigarette instead of tobacco wrapped in tendu  or we keep laughing and laughing and laughing…

I refuse though. I refuse to humble myself in over and over, again and again, in always, always.

Forever is an incorrect concept but Sometimes does come sometime. Belief in thought, ideas and hope moves forward but not that red table. That table is awfully loud and the thoughts around it are ironically cold. The fatality is not in the static but in the acceptance of it. The conformity which is brought in. The narrowness which constricts the lost souls.

A Forever is beautiful they say, Always is something wanted by all.

By Me too,

I Refuse to build my over and over, again and again, My always, A Forever around the red table or by the red curtains.

Over and over and over again, Again and again and same, same and same always, always, always, always is the monster under my bed. This time it exists.

Atoms and Dust.

He said “I am leaving.”

I wish he was leaving  for home to fall asleep talking to me about atoms. I wish he was leaving to take a bath and get rid of the tired workaholic morning. I wish he was leaving for an invitation he had to attend which he was barely interested in. I wish he was leaving to complete a chemistry paper which didnt compete with the chemistry we held when he looked at me. I wish he was leaving just cause he had to. 

But he left. Not to share the complexity of atoms with me. Not to text me goodnight and wish me good sleep mesmerized in his dreams. 

But he left to be on his own. To discover his world where he doesnt have to check his phone to make sure i am not drowning in my tears. He left to get rid of all the beautiful memories which ended up as shrapnels. I thought i was a grenade . But his leaving blew up and just left wounds which wouldnt go. 

The day he left, I didnt cry. I didnt kill the smile I had. Rather that was the day I smiled more than I cried. My jokes were off the charts and made everyone laugh.. No one saw through the farce. No one saw how sadistic I was to my “feelings”. No one saw the wars in which I killed all those welling up tears. I didnt need swords to kill.I slayed with uncontrollable laughs. I spun with hair flips like I owned the world whereas I had just lost my heart.  

Love is a break which is irreparable. But love is a war worth fighting for. Dont die cause he left before he said goodbye. Die cause he left even when you held on to the last string hoping for your atoms to collide and merge eventually. 

His and mine demons collided but our souls just seperated in ways which were more than distant. It was unattainable. I didnt kill myself. I just killed all the happiness I  had. 

And he ? 

He just left to discover atoms independently.

Always.

     I will ways seek you in everyone I ever come across. I will search for the happiness of you in the blue sky. I will ponder on your smell through the flowers at the break of dawn. I will find your smile in that little boy in a torn blue shirt with a lollipop in his hand. I will swing to the music of your laughter when i hear in the pitter and patter on the window. I will feel the warmth of your hug when my mother brushes her fingers through my hair. I will kiss you every time when that rose touches my lips, it’s a little old now. I greet your hello when the bird on the grill wakes me up every morning. I will wish you a good night when the darkness of the night embraces me and slips me into tender sleep of thoughts. I will always try to calm your anger when I hear the thunder roaring before the storm. I will always imagine waking up to your face when the pink flower blooms in the neighbor’s garden at the break of spring. I will feel you watching over me when I’m wrapped in my Grandma’s-made-sweater reading P&P all over again. I will hear you shout with happiness everytime Portugal plays, right beside me.

But in all, my love, I will never feel losing you. I will always want to feel you around and there.

Once I thought, when you left, your memories had become shrapnels on my bare soul. I realized, sweetheart, you are the rose of fourth grade kept in the page where Noddy and Teddy go out for a picnic. That rose which isn’t a shrapnel but it’s you. I will always have you. 

In every waking morning, making it beautiful

Through every worn out cigarette, making it a need

And even on the coldest night, you will be my warm blanket

             I will always have you. Always. 

A Talk with Myself.

I am beautiful. I am not normal. I am different. I cry at night for no  reason. No actually,the reason of the crying is the feel of losing out. The fear of losing out, missing out, watching the white shirt walk away, watching the setting sun. The fear makes me cry. Sometimes the same fear makes me smile. Makes me laugh and feel so strong, feel so resurrected. Makes me feel alive. The way no rain-drenching experience could. I am not fine and smart. I get confused even when I try on the prettiest of the dresses. I get confused between the best rock playlist I have. I never feel my song collection is enough. Sometimes when I don’t find out the song which fits into what I am feeling, the most random song which I haven’t heard for ages makes me smile and everything feels better. I have killed love, I have gone with lust, I have given into feelings which meant nothing, I have walked those lonely walks of friendship which have led no where. I have been in love and knew I was. I have not been in love and knew I was. And I knew I was in love and I have not been in love. Do you get me? 

No you don’t. What do they call it? 

Ah! Damaged. That’s what they say. But no. I am beautiful. In ways you couldn’t ever decipher. I am stars which you could never fathom into constellations. Maybe, dear Reader, I would never know, but maybe you are the one Who would understand. Who would want to know every detail of the book I am. You would bookmark your favourite pages and at best write new pages with me with less tears and raging thunderstorms with us under the umbrella. But I wouldn’t ever know, cause I would never give it A chance. 

It’s funny how I would want someone to read me. Yet this book ain’t for publishing. Is that fucked up? No! That’s beautiful I think. 

If you haven’t noticed. I call myself beautiful, but you know the catch? I don’t believe an inch of it. I’m still like all of you thinking that I am too damaged and need fixing. Whereas I beautifully and completely knowthat I am beautiful. And I am more than worth reading. I am a discovery. 

Of not man, but of emotions. Of the meet of the rising and setting sun. I am not the zenith cause I have built a journey which is more than uunforgettable, you don’t store it as memory, you live it.

Strangers? 

The question mark proves my ambivalence to this relationship. 

I hate the rain. There was nothing more than the sound of rain that day while our thoughts raged out loud inside that curtained room. We sat at a far distance between each other and the air smelled like whiskey. You sang chords which i couldnt tame even if i tried, and much more wild than your chords was my smile. Yes, I still cant believe i smiled. I smiled so hard that you could hear the sound of the scream of happiness i had within. We have always liked playing with words, didnt we? You and me, we have been solving the crossword every now and then but we didnt have answers to few blanks today. We may have known the beginning and the end, but the letters in between were like wisps of wonder and imaginations we were chasing. 

There were questions you asked which of course I failed to answer. There were wants you delivered through your eyes and your breath on my skin, 

Imagination, you ask? 

Love, I imagine us in the most imperfect chaotic unorganised damaging fixating phonic ambiguous world wrapped in blue and white in each other’s breaths with you hands travelling through every inch of my body caressing me and me holding your face peering into your eyes and just smiling. We are different sweetheart, yet we are on the same page. The concept of wanting more stops within us and that is the contentment i imagine. 

Fear, you said?

Fear of losing isnt what i consider in us. I fear how we understand each other too well. How you know what to say when nothing could possibly help. How i can lean back to always know you are there. How insecurity wont bother us ever. How one day we may just understand the need to part and we will grow up together and be brave to let each other go. I fear of not being able to be children together. The fear of the loss of youth. 

Want, you stated. 

This is my favourite. This strikes off all fears and makes my imaginations secure. Thats all.

Darling, our imaginations are obscene and our reality dies in anxiety. Courage remains a word. An untold feeling flows right outside the walls we have spent years building. These walls make us similar yet,

Strangers.
To you From me.

Someday.

​Someday I’ll be there. The place where youve been waiting for me. The place where our horizons meet. The place where all our shields will be nothing but a piece of thin paper of the past. Someday I will be there standing in this blue dress covering parts of my body which you are yet to discover. I will be there where you have always wanted us to be. Someday i will be at that place where everything is all right and the cacophony is just background noise and it will be just us breathing. The sound of our smiles, have you ever heard that? There are moments when you smile and you scream your expression through your eyes. Its beautiful and thats the sound we will be engroped with. Someday i will be at that place standing with you where the waves will be flooding the shore and memories will be flooding our hearts. There will only be a distance of a rose between our lips to collide and get lost into each others souls. Someday you and i will make an us out of ourselves in this place which we have always imagined but were fightened to visit

We will visit that place. And with the music of our smiles our breaths will be intertwined and our demons will waltz and all our agony will flow away through the wave of my hair like the dust. That place will consist of your fingers on my face touching my smile and my hands on your shoulders seeming as if I would fall without their support. Someday we will go to that place where we will have the courage to love each the way we do.