4.03am
Some kinda night it turned out to be. Besides the rain, which seems to have made herself quite comfortable against my window sill. I don't mind her. Today marks my first day in the office, seated on my own desk, still lacking the personal touch. On the window next to mine I've pasted picture of escapism. Postcards I used to collect in moments of utter boredom in childhood days. Chicago, New York, Bermuda, Maldives, Je Taime Paris ... And of frozen smiles of friends in simpler times. I rather sink into the familiar past than have the bleeding bare teeth of uncertainty seep into mundane thoughts. Lately mundane.
It wasn't planned of course, the sudden confession of hidden feelings i had for him. Blame the weather and Mr Sandman as much as i want, at the back of my mind she was screaming at me that it was time. Any longer and it would have gotten more complicated. Fuck my intuition for being my best friend, honestly. Whatever happened to the times when she was distracted by blue butterflies and gleaming unicorns? I guess we all grow up and grow down ... depends. I hadn't expected anything in return, honestly. Deep down though lays a lingering bold question mark, red like the Riddlers. I appreciated the moment and truth that came thereafter wholeheartedly. Burden lifted? Immensely.
Thoughts straying back that thin thread held flimsily between my heart and his hard callous fingers of the awestruck love. Skin crawling though pleasantly at the memories of that drumming rhythm against my bare chest. Constant stolen kisses. Solid bonding over years which inevitably resulted to a deep affection and understanding, once responded to and yet now caked in uncertainty. Its a painful way to live, its his selfish sense of gift. If you love him, let him go they say. What grounds are they to decide this on? Give up on the future built on sweet whisperings and postcards and chocolate scented bubbles? I think so. The grounds which once my feet stood on so firmly now sway like undercooked jello. Its time to wake up little girl, and smell the cigarette smoke from which your Intuition inhales hard upon. She knows whats best.
4.32am
Its decided then. Cynical? Maybe. Progression? Much appreciated.
Some kinda night it turned out to be. Besides the rain, which seems to have made herself quite comfortable against my window sill. I don't mind her. Today marks my first day in the office, seated on my own desk, still lacking the personal touch. On the window next to mine I've pasted picture of escapism. Postcards I used to collect in moments of utter boredom in childhood days. Chicago, New York, Bermuda, Maldives, Je Taime Paris ... And of frozen smiles of friends in simpler times. I rather sink into the familiar past than have the bleeding bare teeth of uncertainty seep into mundane thoughts. Lately mundane.
It wasn't planned of course, the sudden confession of hidden feelings i had for him. Blame the weather and Mr Sandman as much as i want, at the back of my mind she was screaming at me that it was time. Any longer and it would have gotten more complicated. Fuck my intuition for being my best friend, honestly. Whatever happened to the times when she was distracted by blue butterflies and gleaming unicorns? I guess we all grow up and grow down ... depends. I hadn't expected anything in return, honestly. Deep down though lays a lingering bold question mark, red like the Riddlers. I appreciated the moment and truth that came thereafter wholeheartedly. Burden lifted? Immensely.
Thoughts straying back that thin thread held flimsily between my heart and his hard callous fingers of the awestruck love. Skin crawling though pleasantly at the memories of that drumming rhythm against my bare chest. Constant stolen kisses. Solid bonding over years which inevitably resulted to a deep affection and understanding, once responded to and yet now caked in uncertainty. Its a painful way to live, its his selfish sense of gift. If you love him, let him go they say. What grounds are they to decide this on? Give up on the future built on sweet whisperings and postcards and chocolate scented bubbles? I think so. The grounds which once my feet stood on so firmly now sway like undercooked jello. Its time to wake up little girl, and smell the cigarette smoke from which your Intuition inhales hard upon. She knows whats best.
4.32am
Its decided then. Cynical? Maybe. Progression? Much appreciated.
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