sushiela

I see the words appear on the lines that crease your forehead, or the space between your brows, before you even speak out. You’re aged further by the very weight of your thoughts, you turn pale at an image that rests at the back of your eyelids, places far beyond my reach.

I cannot shelter you from those demons. But I can tell you that if you ever find the courage to speak, to say what you feel, I’ll listen. I’ll listen and I won’t judge you. We are allowed be imperfect, and flawed and totally lost together. But at some point, we have to find our way back home.

I’ll take your hands, and bring them to your lips and show you how perfect they are. How wonderful they’d look if only you’d just smile. I’ll touch your hair and brush those beautiful brown locks of yours down, entangling them in my fingers, fistfuls of you. Bringing you closer to me, I take my hand and brush them over to your feet with all its ten toes; to show you that you can walk, your steps are not cursed, and you are not marred by a burden carried. You are not crazy; nothing needs to stay in your head. I will love you through the vulgarity of your thoughts, through the sting in their vulnerabilities and even through this, will I want to see your vicarious raw soul.   

Don’t be afraid to let me embrace you. You will always be free, you’ll always be you. I don’t want to change any of that. I’m here to show you that you can still love this world. There is still happiness for you here, happiness that your age cannot take away. Your wrinkled skin a testimony to the feats you have performed with honesty and sincerity. Your face doesn’t lie. I get it. You are tired.

I can’t tell you how it could have been different. But I can tell you I’m happy it was not, because if it was, we would not be here right now. So please please laugh once more for me, and let me lay you to rest. The one I am thankful for.

CHOKE

Friendships are great great things to make, especially hard to keep, and absolutely wonderful to have.

If they go well, that is.

It feels like there's an arrow in my chest and all the words I need to say are written on a note that's been pierced through with it. It's like a 'kick-me' sign, or something you'd see...a piece of robin-hood literature on a tree somewhere. I feel looted for loss of a better word.

Looted of my ability to express myself...and currently, trying to speak to a certain someone has been very very difficult. Trusting someone again with the intimacy of your thoughts and the raw nature of your emotion and true self is NOT easy. Obviously. Then, having this weakness...your awkwardness suddenly resembles someone they know, and the only way they can console you is that, they know 'you'll come around', so automatically a bridge is built and a map is drawn, and you will follow the markers set out for you...they wait, you start loosening up, you become really good friends and everyone's happy. 

But the things is, I don't know why its so hard to speak to you. Maybe its this gigantic fear of being vulnerable, or sounding so self-absorbed. Maybe its because I'm so intrigued by you and how good of a person you are. I could never tell you this in person, but I actually really really think you are absolutely amazing. Which is the primary reason why I choke...I don't want to ruin this. You don't know what you're getting into when you ask me 'Why?'. 

Sometimes I feel I should just take a deep breath and take the plunge, and it doesn't matter what you think of me and there's nothing more I want than to not be compared to her. I am so completely done with being compared to 'her'. I'm me. And all I want, is to be honest. With myself and with those that matter.

And you know what the scary thing is? You're starting to matter.