it was one of those nights of bleakness and dissolution. the chair blocked my views, the nails came off too easily just with the slightest pressure. our lives all sewn in with respective traumas, unfulfilled goals, unrequited love, struggles, archenemies, uncertainties and indecision. these things orbit our heads like weary moons still, consuming me in a thorny garden of many faceless, mediocre roses. i feel deprived. starved, somehow. repressed. oppressed. sad. lonely. disappointed. furious. cold. and the scratching didn't quite cut it.
i needed a dose of endorphines. i screamed. and i moaned. i was searching for liberation. and there you were. right there. calling. curling up with you was nice for however long it lasted. and that baby videos of yours, chubby and wobbly - i dunno why, but for some strange reasons, i like it very much, i like how it made me chuckled, how for a second, i forgotten to sulk. and all the lil gentle gestures, the snippet dialogues, the non-sense teasers, the tenderness, the skin on skin, they just snake their way through into me and remind me of just how lil things can make huge differences.
the night. the smell of white and the armani. how i giggled. and how you laughed, and the occassional emotionless response of you. you're sooo cutely funny. in your own way and i still find it very confusing to an extent how that had helped to take away the disquiet feelings in me. it’s nice to know that these things can be dusted away. it’s a good kind of pressure for growing up.
it was a time of pure bliss. i know i was reprieved. even if its short lived. so thank you.
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