Read as you please!


Dirty Dancing.


While the extravagant swear by their Chanel no. 5, I sit here and figure the smell of three things that I like any day; the smell of soil after the rain, the smell of food when I’m hungry, and how he smells like in the mornings.

The music blared in the club and he held me close for cosy dance. While I let loose in between and moved around, he told me I seemed different. Matured was the adjective he used. As we walked into his room later that night I could tell he was uncertain of a few thoughts in his head. Impressed, nevertheless.

I wish every Sunday mornings began in his arms after a tipsy night, but we both know familiarity breeds contempt.


No Goodbyes here.

In all honesty I told him today wasn’t as exhilarating as I had anticipated it to be. I’m yet to receive his reply. I didn’t tell him how I wish to drive on an unending highway with sad songs playing all throughout; it would give him wrong signals about my feelings. But I tell you here, Please bear with me.

Sometimes I wonder how it feels like to just leave. Not have to say a teary goodbye to anyone or live in fear of never seeing them again. To lose someone momentarily is just as bad as losing them forever, don’t you think? I am afraid it’s not something I can do and perhaps it could be an unwise decision later. But what I am more afraid of is that he might be capable of the very same thing. Gone. Poof.


Going Away.

I sat on the floor abruptly without noticing the scissors slip out of my slim fingers. The childish sketch of mine stuck on the card waiting to dry and the pink beads half stuck on the sides, forgotten. Two nights ago, a lot of things changed. The way I felt in that moment, I still do. It circulates like the blood in my veins, at the back of my mind.I didn’t know there were so many things more to know about him when we both moved here to this dead city, which gave us so much life in return. Not that I wasn’t happy to discover all over again. I’d never know how he smells like in the mornings, how the fish he prepares tastes just like my Mother’s, how he watches the news every day. All these things I’d never know if we were just our 16 and 17 year old self back in our little town.

Now I wake up in the morning and suddenly it hits me, everything’s going to be different. It’s like sitting on a time bomb counting the days for it to explode and I know I’m not going to die but the wound will impair me all the same. I think I should pray but I don’t. I’m sitting here trying to find the reasons why I’m so afraid when I shouldn’t be. I’m wondering how I should begin telling you about it. I’ve told him I’m getting drunk on his birthday.


The Moment I knew.


When you find someone who Loves you beyond the appearances and the physicality’s, it could either be the most amazing or the most pathetic thing ever. My Chemistry Professor says there are only two choices in life. Nothing aches my heart more than knowing that he failed to notice the laces and the curves.

I’ve always questioned my motives here. I write these posts like I’d write my diary if I had one. I don’t know why I write them, perhaps it's because like I said before, we write the things we can’t say, I come here for an hour and share my deepest thoughts with a part of the world that's invisible to me. I'm afraid a lot of times, not being sure of how much is too much while my head and heart yearns for an outlet. But every time I read the comments and there is always something positive, when someone tells me that they turn off their music while reading my posts, it is a moment of clarity. It’s like that ease I feel when I close my eyes at the end of a very tiring day.

And I realise exactly why I come here. It feels safe. Thank You.