Communication is Key

And after that post of mine, that helped crack my armour and let me come clean and just explode at you...

you come in and surprise me, taking my breath away. and prove to me how much I do my own fair share of misdeeds; where I keep quiet and act everything's fine, where I always just assume that you don't care as much as I do, where I just dwell in the concept that it's not possible for someone to care as much as I do.

Oh, how my  pretentious snobbery came to play.  How it amplified my self esteem issues and inability to communicate personally, and made me doubt everything.

and just before our first anniversary to boot.

True, we had our hiccups. but oh, how that day reminded me how much I loved, love and will always love you. Not for the gifts, or the lengths you'd do for me. but for the moments of clarity you always bring in me.

If I could, if I were gifted with the penchant of photography or had a cyborg cerebral implanted in my brain and could record, I could just show you. but alas, I have neither. so I'll just describe them.

It's when you looked at me and hesitantly held my hand to comfort me, how you got excited in the car when you were retelling your stories, how you chose to sing educational songs from History bombs.

You, and your adorkable-ness.

the way you are.

and I just need to remind myself, that all I need to do, is to be open and talk.

be open and communicate.

shouldn't be hard for a Professional Communication and Media major, right?

as if.

and I need to breathe

Is it always going to be like this?

Me always waiting on you. Waiting for you. Always waiting.

Always the one to initiate. Always the one to try. Always the one vulnerable.

Always.

Every time I talk about my fears about academia, and if you know anything about me you should know this: academia is a big part of me, you always turn it around to make me feel bad, for this part of me.

Always. Always. Always.

Me pulling you up by the ropes. Me fighting to prove myself. Me dragging you everywhere.

Always, just me.

I thought relationships were a two person effort?

I though relationships meant sharing my burdens and problems?

I thought you were there for me?

I understand that you’re going through something, and for the past few months I’ve been rallying up and trying to help, and doing all I can do to help you. 

Even studying at your place, trying to brighten up your day, trying. Just trying. Coming up with different ideas, or projects, or anything.

And yet. You still do your thing. The same redundant things, that you know, doesn’t bring about any change.

If you’re not happy with where you are. With what position you are in. do something. Do not moan and beguile. Do not lament and go ‘woe is me’. Do not just give up. You’re allowed a wallowing period, but don’t milk it. Not too much.

You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You’re talented and dedicated, but the problem is… you’re stagnantly stuck in the same routine. In a rut. And that’s cause you’re doing the same thing.

Life has given you a difficult situation, I understand. This environment does not sustain or support your kind of intellect. But that is not an excuse to just try.

And here I am. Just waiting on you. Again. Just waiting for you to fucking even try with this relationship. To trust me. But you don’t. not really.

Because the sad truth is, if you really wanted me, you’d be trying just as hard as me.

And I know, it’s not fair for me to expect you to reciprocate all my efforts or my attempts in this relationship. But god fucking damn it. Could you just even try?

You say you will. But you don’t. always.

No. you don’t. you don’t got this. You don’t.

And I’m getting fed up. You still have me, but for fuck’s sake, could you fucking try.

Maybe it’s just me trying too hard, and fooling myself.

Yeah, maybe it’s that.

Off my rockers and On Tangent

So, last night, in between counting frolicking sheep doing the cha-cha across the gates, my thought held me hostage. By this, I imagine my thoughts to take human-shadow-like form threatening me at gun-point, tre`-cool, no?

To be honest, the way my mind works, it’d be less ala`-taken and more alice in wonderland-esque. As in I followed a white rabbit down a dark danky hole that led me to a land of hysteria, chaos; basically my subconcious is filled with castaway thoughts, hidden worries and broken dreams. What a nice wonderland wouldn't you say?

Breaking News

Mayor of Loony Town is basically having a small non-existential crisis, which surrounds her questioning her capability of being in a long-term relationship with the most wonderful guy she's ever been with. 

As in, I'm bloody scared. It's been a while? you know? and like I am so worried. so very worried and wary of messing things up. cause it's been 8 months and everything's been fine. and I don't wanna screw up. 

*cue the acoustic version of Been A While - Staind plays in the background*

He's not perfect in societal terms, far from it, but there's something about him that makes me feel like... he could be it you know? just. him, with his multitude of smiles; the hesitant one when he's confused, the bright one when he's proud of himself, the shy one when he receives a compliment, and my personal favourite is the one where he really smiles; with his wide grin and lit eyes, and you can practically see laughter in the air around him-

yeah, I sound insane, don't I?

Yeah. I do.

Going off on tangent about someone's smile does make one appear to have gone cuckoo. but I've always been a tad bit off my rockers loco 

but it's clear to say, I don't wanna mess things up. I really don't. it's just, I feel I will? and I know about self-fulfilling prophecies and I've been trying very hard to be positive,

but at night, in between covers and cushioned by my pillow, I can hear them whispering, saying I'm not good enough, that I'd ruin the whole thing, that he's better off without this insecure mess of a girl who loves to read, hates crowds and prefers to stay in.

I just... don't wanna mess up. 

Here's hoping I won't.

A Sense of Surreal

Is this real? You wonder as you scratch, surveying the scene with cursory eyes,

Is this really happening? And you see him sitting next to you, and your parents across,

And your brothers are in between, and you think

Is this real?

And your hands itch-itch-itch, to hold his hand, as he stutters and stumbles,

his mouth parsed with words, brain gearing for the right words in the right language

He’s trying.

And your heart soars, and it sings.

Can this be real? 

An easy grin fights its way up across your face,

Ears raising their tips up in the air,

And you feel a weightless light flow through you,

Maybe... this is real?

Your heart rattles and beats against the cage,

And your hands are clammy, and your mouth is dry,

And words echo alongside your sporadic heart beat;

Please, please, please-

 
Please, let this be real.

A lack of a lack

It's in the small moments,
when you're washing the dishes,
or dusting the cabinets,
just an awareness of a lack of a lack.

suddenly you're aware of how empty you were
and how this emptiness was always routine,
that you never paid heed to its presence

like a hole near a wall, that you've walked past day by day,
and you never knew it was there, 'till it wasn't.

cause now you're filled.
over flowing, to the brim,
content and happy

and when his arms creep around you,
and his chin rests on your shoulder,
your mouth stretches taut:

a smile bursting at it's seams

The Pull.

Have you ever felt that heart twisting feeling?
Like a pull that clenches and your chest feels twisted and tight?
like gravity has grown an arm and phased through your rib cage,
and now holds your heart, hooked it's fingers on the muscles and just..

pull.

I did. Just now,
When he zipped his bag, and walked away, without a single glance,
When his spine was firm, and his arms agitated, and his thoughts loud,
When his steps were sure, and striding away away away from me, I felt it,

the pull.

and in an instant, when I saw him round the corner,
the instant I saw him disappear from my eyesight,
when I saw him gone.

I lurched. grabbed my stuff, followed him,
trying to catch him, trying to get him
followed him.

followed the pull.

and when I finally caught up, the pull was there. the pull so insistent.

and I knew what that pull was.
-that I'd do anything to fix it, to correct my wrong, to un-do the hurt I had caused him.

the pull of being in love, falling in love,
the pull of love,