If it looks like it works and it feels like it works

February 25th, 2006

i open my eyes and i immediately have to squeeze them shut them again. they feel so dry. fucking contact lens. let me see, please. moments like this dont come around and wait forever for me to regain my eyesight.

sunlight streams in from the window, forcing its way between the chocolate brown curtains. the room is otherwise dark, and i am thankful for the luminance the sun lends. today it is on my side, and that’s a good thing because it feels like everything else in the world isn’t. i blink once, twice, and stare at the ceiling. i dont want to turn to my left just yet. i know what is there, and i anticipate it, but i just need to savour this juncture in time. just inhale and soak it all up.

the room is so quiet. the air conditioner doesnt whir, there are no birds, the air is still. the world is asleep. in my mind’s ear i hear the sound of trickling brooks and flutters of butterfly wings. right now i am bathed in a sea of white bedsheets that smell so nice. it’s comfortably warm where i am, yet cool enough. my limbs have that nice achy feeling that tells me that i’ve had a good sleep. a good rest. but my mind is racing. and with every second that passes, my pulse climbs higher and higher.

i finally turn, ever so slightly, to my left.

and there you are, asleep. more tranquil than i’ve ever seen you, yet you look guardedly troubled even in your slumber. i turn fully onto my side, and stare at you, just drinking you in with all my senses, beholding you with wide eyes. what are you dreaming of? i wish i could see, and know all the things that plague you in the most private and secluded alcoves of your mind. i know almost nothing about you. sometimes that seems to be a pleasant thing, but more often than not it’s so frustrating. i have no evidence, no theories, no backup data, no validation, no substantiation. what the hell am i even doing? you are like a latin love song i dont know the words to.

but in moments like this, pragmatism and reasoning just fly out the window. they are so naggy. give me an hour without them. just you and me without the scales of my heart being tilted up and down in constant oscillation between the starkest of ultimatums. i just dont want to think right now.

my fingers crawl towards your face. and i caress your cheek. trace your jawline. brush your eyelashes. touch your sleeping smiling lips. kiss your shoulder. melt into you.

this .. is just too surreal. so surreal so surreal so surreal. it feels like one of those moments when someone disturbs you in your sleep and everything seems blurry yet makes perfect sense to you, but to the person who woke you up you’re speaking utter rubbish. dont wake me up. i already know that my situation is utter rubbish, but please, just dont wake me up.

i dont at all understand this passage of events and the walls of it. sometimes i think it’s boredom. sometimes i think it’s naivete. at times, maybe a passion that’s just .. pure. and then there are the days that i think it is more than just that. i dont know. i really dont know. we dont even mesh or think alike. you’re not my type and i’m not yours. our meetings are awkward at best.

but they are just so. comfortable.

my flurry of mental sentences fall immediately to a halt as you stir in your sleep. and then you move. shit. dont wake up. dont ruin this moment for me.

unconsciously, you stretch your arms, and your hands search for mine. you find me, and you pull me into tightly your grip. “come here, baby,” you whisper into my ear without ever opening your eyes, and then you kiss my shoulder before falling back into your deep sleep. our legs are tangled and i fit so nicely in your embrace. i’ve found my niche. this is perfect. you are perfect. and slowly i drift off to sleep.

i am where i want to be.

for some strange reason i thought you were different. now i know that you are all the same.

Entry Filed under: Unsent Letters