Love stories- the ones confined within four word sentences and the ones bound to be read between the lines, are the ones that pull you closer, the more you pull apart. The gentle denials closing in every time a remotely good thing happens, is the part and parcel of love stories. The fate of wilted red roses, fed to the yellow pages of pride and prejudice apparently speaks volumes. Feelings running amok in a beautiful cathedral should ultimately be collected in a glass jar, saved up; as fuel.
And oh, I believed all of it. I kept hitting the snooze button, wanting only to be swept off of my feet, to learn everything I know from this one person. And when I thought that he was there to guide me, I was blinded to the fact that he was only in my way.
"You make me second-guess myself, how did I ever manage to find you?" He said.
I laughed; he ran his fingers through his hair. A sarcastic comment was thrown here and there, my walls came down. Why was I being driven from what I couldn't control? Why was I speechless, nervous, shaky and drained? What was wrong with this so-called strong woman, taking every dumb shit, and putting it on a pedestal?
I wondered -after all had turned to ashes around which he solemnized his love to a stranger- how hero-worshiping someone had become my duty in disguise of loving someone. Anyway, that's all I remember, because time has healed everything. And now, all I see is a deceitful person, with beliefs that were ultimately south to mine.
And I want to tell her, that the red and pink glittered hearts on Valentine’s Day cards shouldn't oblige you to make a start. That gentle kisses on collarbone titillates, red backless dress with black high heels invigorates, I understand. But in your cathedral of love, there may not be a hot first date; there may not be a perfect cafe with a perfect view. There may be questions, several of them, touching upon subject after subject, made complex by complex love stories. And you'll begin to wonder, if the time and energy that goes in keeping a relationship tethered and together, is really after all worth it or not?
And when I didn’t want to answer that question, I turned; swiftly, with dignity. Paying heed to the exigency of the short time we spend in this world, I want nothing now but to be invariably happy, and unapologetically myself.
So, I found it all. I found love in my favorite hazelnut coffee. I found it in the yellow pages of a George Eliot book. I found love in the middle of a lonely street, in the cold winds that pacify the incubus of monotony. I found it in my sweat, in the ache in my bones, in the pain in my arms- in my main signs of progress. I found love in my plans - of skydiving in Argentina, writing a lengthy entry in my journal in a cafe in Amsterdam, holding a koala in Australia, crashing a wedding in Las Vegas.
Our whole lives, we search for the missing pieces of the puzzle that just refuses to come together. But you just make it work. Because that emptiness can ultimately be filled by something different, something more interesting. :)
And oh, I believed all of it. I kept hitting the snooze button, wanting only to be swept off of my feet, to learn everything I know from this one person. And when I thought that he was there to guide me, I was blinded to the fact that he was only in my way.
"You make me second-guess myself, how did I ever manage to find you?" He said.
I laughed; he ran his fingers through his hair. A sarcastic comment was thrown here and there, my walls came down. Why was I being driven from what I couldn't control? Why was I speechless, nervous, shaky and drained? What was wrong with this so-called strong woman, taking every dumb shit, and putting it on a pedestal?
I wondered -after all had turned to ashes around which he solemnized his love to a stranger- how hero-worshiping someone had become my duty in disguise of loving someone. Anyway, that's all I remember, because time has healed everything. And now, all I see is a deceitful person, with beliefs that were ultimately south to mine.
And I want to tell her, that the red and pink glittered hearts on Valentine’s Day cards shouldn't oblige you to make a start. That gentle kisses on collarbone titillates, red backless dress with black high heels invigorates, I understand. But in your cathedral of love, there may not be a hot first date; there may not be a perfect cafe with a perfect view. There may be questions, several of them, touching upon subject after subject, made complex by complex love stories. And you'll begin to wonder, if the time and energy that goes in keeping a relationship tethered and together, is really after all worth it or not?
And when I didn’t want to answer that question, I turned; swiftly, with dignity. Paying heed to the exigency of the short time we spend in this world, I want nothing now but to be invariably happy, and unapologetically myself.
So, I found it all. I found love in my favorite hazelnut coffee. I found it in the yellow pages of a George Eliot book. I found love in the middle of a lonely street, in the cold winds that pacify the incubus of monotony. I found it in my sweat, in the ache in my bones, in the pain in my arms- in my main signs of progress. I found love in my plans - of skydiving in Argentina, writing a lengthy entry in my journal in a cafe in Amsterdam, holding a koala in Australia, crashing a wedding in Las Vegas.
Our whole lives, we search for the missing pieces of the puzzle that just refuses to come together. But you just make it work. Because that emptiness can ultimately be filled by something different, something more interesting. :)