Musings and the lot.

I’ve realised that I’m afraid of making memories by association. For instance, I haven’t yet told any guy about the song I want to dance to with him for fear of the simple fact that one day we might end up dancing to the song, thus making a memory that will last a lifetime (such is my memory) and the next day, we might break up; hence, leaving one of my favourite songs with a bitter aftertaste. For instance, if I ever do get a tattoo it will be on a day I go to the parlour alone and get it done without informing a soul, so that its permanence is not marred by anything unpleasant that may happen. For instance, I haven’t kissed on any New Year’s midnight despite having the opportunity to do so, because that’s something I want to be kept special for someone who is worth getting it ruined for for good (probably not the right word)

At the same time, and I know I’ll get a lot of flak for saying this, I enjoy making memories.
I’ll fly down to surprise you and shower you with gifts because I don’t remember the dates on the calender that well and the memory will remain without any concrete repeptive evidence. I’ll sing you songs that I wouldn’t remember singing. I’ll love you like there’s no tomorrow and rightly so, because what if there isn’t? I’d rather make a new memory with you than repeat something you have done with the rest in the past. Being a first was important to me but with age and time, it’s proving more and more difficult to be a first at anything personal, because everyone wants the same. So, I probably settle for being the last at everything.. but last at everything with you. (And I use the word you as a generic term, for friends and the SO). I’ve realised that being the last one is more special than being the first one. Imagine being the last person I think of before sleeping each night. 🙂

If I do anything permanent with anyone nowadays, it isn’t to just make a memory, it is to trust that the person will not leave me. Departure has a huge significance in my life. I’m not upset about it, in fact, I’m quite used to it by now. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had to bid goodbye to my friends because of my father’s transferable job (and Facebook or Gmail wasn’t a thing back then). Goodbyes are difficult, I wouldn’t disagree, but I’ve gradually grown used to moving away from people so much so that I’ve stopped trying to make anything permanent with someone important who shows even an inkling of leaving me.

What if someone does end up kissing me on new year’s and then leaves? I’d probably go in a new year’s kissing spree to make it mundane and then it wouldn’t matter anymore. I’d desensitise myself from the thrill of it and all will be hunky dory again. Right? Right?

While I have the strongest yearning to spend my time with people I love, I am filled with the fear of losing them, so I stay aloof. This may seem like a redundant and stupid thing to do for self preservation but all I do is hold them less tightly than I should so that they’re free to do what they want without having to think twice about hurting me. Saves everyone the trouble. Does it really, though? I hold them so dearly in my heart. I do! I’m not scared of a commitment, I’m scared of an ending and thus, never end up committing. I want permanence but end up fleeing at the first chance I get. I probably need to be tied up and be asked to shut up and not think so much but I asked like this, I think and therefore, that is exactly why I am.

The most permanent thing I’ve ever done is to put up my relationship status online which majorly backfired, haha. So that’s that. Oh, and I made pancakes for someone, a friend. That’s permanent because nothing is more permanent than food.

Enough now.
Love, love. x

Bake the cake and eat it.

Too much to ask, is it?
To want to know
How he looks when
He concentrates,
He scribbles,
He sleeps,

What does he do
While deciding what to wear
Or what to order as dinner.

Too much to ask, I know.
To want to know
How he sighs,
Yawns, smirks,
Dances, dreams.
Drives.

How he moves when he
Holds a pen,
Holds my hand (?)
Holds the door open,
Holds me when I fall (?)
Holds a puppy,
Holds me.

All I want is

A touch.
The whiff of perfume.
His feet around mine
Under the table,
Or even on the bed.
..on the unmade bed.

A whisper.
Two words.
The feel of his silk tie
Around my wrists,
Or against my feet.
..my quivering feet.

Too much to ask,  too fucking much.