Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

Archive for the month “November, 2013”

Best.

“Did you know I can touch my nose with my nose?”

We’re sitting in my car at the traffic lights, and I’m close to tears. I slowly turn my head to the left. Sure enough your tongue is rammed right up your nose.

And I’m just sitting here, almost about to break; you’re sitting there with drool covering your nose.
The tears fall.
And I’m laughing.
I’ve never loved you so much before.

I’m in love with you because you know how to turn my days around. You think it’s funny when I’m mad, or stressed or fixed on something completely insignificant. You tell right away when something is not okay. You do anything and everything to make me feel better, and never fail at it. You make me laugh by looking at dumb photos of obese cats and dogs with strange expressions in bed. You see my faults and choose to completely disregard them. You know exactly what to say. You hold my hand, or touch my knee or say my name and the world is okay again. You make no sense and do the silliest of things and say things completely out of the blue, and I love it.
You’re honest. And that’s the best part.

Quite frankly, you are the best. This time I really mean it.

Mapped.

It’s almost as if the stars slowly pin-pointed their constellations to this.

It’s as if every tiny decision made; every question asked; every struggle faced all pointed towards this. Like my own labyrinth in Plato’s cave, it wasn’t until I reached this opening when I realised that I was actually heading for something. Because if you had told me this destination seven years ago, or even three months ago, I would never have believed it. I never thought I was good enough. To be honest, I still question it every day.

I’m not one to believe in fate, but I wholeheartedly believe everything before this has been mere preparation for something bigger: that every time I wanted to give up, that every time I almost succumbed to the easy option and those times where I thought I just wouldn’t be able to do it, were not in vain. They slowly and quietly led to me to an opportunity: to this old brick road and this towering building before me. Every labour, every pushed limit, every breathless cheer were mere steps to give me the strength to get here.

I’ll open these centuries-old gates and tread those paths so many before me have laid their footprints. I’ll fight: I’ll fight for everything that has allowed me to be sitting in this history-laden room and prove to myself that I am good enough; that I was always good enough. I’ll continue to test those limits, to strive and keep striving until there is no horizon left to capture.

I may not have been able to call you up and tell you where I’m going  any more, but I know you’ll be there too. You always had some preconceived idea I’d wind up somewhere like this.

And chances are that this may not work out; maybe this isn’t actually where I’m headed, but yet another prolonged dead-end. But that’s fine. I’ll try my hardest anyway. Because I’ll make my way out of this labyrinth one day, and I know that I’ll do you proud no matter where it leads me.

‘L’.

I guess this is really happening.

I mean, I had always kind of believed that one day this would happen, but I never actually knew it would. It was more of an optimistic hope, or yearn or even helpless cling to reality that it could, one day. But I definitely did not think it would happen right now, or with you or this much.

A helpless form of awkwardness and helplessness grapples me, as I hold your head in my hands and whisper in your hair. The thoughts I had always silenced to the caverns of the back of my mind somehow tried to propel themselves into the fresh and open air. They seemed to want to be in the open where they could blossom, rather than being sentenced to their locked up cages. So I compromise. I murmur softly in your ruffled locks, far from the vicinity of your ears. I still said it, you just didn’t know I did. And that makes it safe.

And almost as if those delicate syllables diffused straight into your knowing, your head comes up for air and brings me in. An affirmation that this is safe; that this state of vulnerability doesn’t mean instability. One day those words can echo.

Slowly, as the absinthe in your iris intoxicates, the thoughts begin to linger a little more on my tongue. They gain depth and flavour and vigour.  They formulate themselves in a simple, yet heavy utterance. It would be over in just one breath. A simple movement of the mouth, a swift hushed voice, and you’d know. Those little talks and glimmers in my eyes would be made vocal. And I begin to curve my lips into a word, but my larynx closes shut. I’m not ready to let this go. I’d much rather live in my head where it’s much safer and calmer and risk-free.

So time somehow catapults us on the day of your birthday. After the laughs of friends who had imbibed far too much lulls to a quiet hush and the last clack of a heel stumbles through the door, I’m left in your arms. Somehow all those locked up thoughts have leaked into the whole vicinity of the room. It’s so tangible. It’s as if there are no words left to say, but I say them anyway. I use that dreaded word, the one with the ‘l’, and.

He’s still here. His arms are still around me, his skin glowing in the light only found at 4am and I’m safe. Along the way he said that he had always felt the same too. And that was it. And that’s it. Like that, I lay by his side and laugh at his jokes and finally feel that effulgence of  life and brilliance and know that it’s going to be okay.
Because I’m right. He’s different. He’s worth the wait.
He’s lovely.

Infatuation.

You’re a silent brigade in the dead of the night.
You’re the fiery balm in the bitterness of Winter.
You’re a booming whisper in the midst of silence.
You’re the smiling eyes in the sea of unhappy faces.
You’re an unanswerable question in a black and white world.
You’re the simple rhetoric in a room filled with answers.
You’re an unquestionable happiness in a hopeless setting.
You’re the all-consuming love in a barren wasteland.

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