SIGNATURE STANCE

I had waited with impatience for this day, for all the fabrication to move and to feel that tickle within… to be glad without much reason… to stare down all the irony and to deny everything else for that one person. I was quite fearsome of my imperfection, what if I never stood a chance? And so the apprehension remained… But now… to be frank I don’t think I could afford to have a lot of rules about love. Because every step of that way he keeps mocking my tiny apprehension… like at the moment I am so special and I love that about him. Not just it, excusing me for giving in to my impulses like almost the time… I love that about him. He had something else going for him, I still don’t know why I am not able to name it. But it’s like I want to do everything and anything possible to get that look of trust on his face. I still don’t have the slightest idea … maybe love could be a heavy word… PS : I am oblivious of what I’m scribbling.

Once upon a time in la la land... I had some peace of mind (if you can call it that). If peace of mind meant sleeping peacefully most of the time, ignoring all the coldness, denying all good vibe quotes and recreating my version of the same …then yes, I had peace of mind. Music and ladoos were more than enough to make up for every lack I had in my life. I was happy. I can't say that I am 'sad' now, but I am definitely not at 'peace'. Sleep seems to have broken up with me completely, but somehow I wanted my nights and days to be longer despite that. Why? Because this was probably the only time when I would be able to talk to him, help him untangle his crazy mind. I close my eyes every time to conjure up images of him. The way he smiles, the way he frowns, the way he lays his hands casually on his steering wheel, the way he secretly looks at me through the rear view mirror, And his scar OMG... I can’t express how badly I am in love with his scar. I could admir

If I asked why it was you wouldn’t bother to answer. You aren’t answerable to just anyone, after all. Maybe you never thought you would need anything more. Maybe you hadn’t even thought of thinking of the said thought. As if you drew your lines on feelings. Not that you ever noticed these things as such, or had any opinions about it. ‘Coz sometimes I do feel your eyes on me. I always admired them. They were extremely piercing. There was a promised impulsiveness in them. And how you always begin with monologues, but you never get anything else out… but I could live with that.