Unfiltered and impromptu 12AM thoughts: on us and dating

One of my biggest gratitudes early this year stems from appreciating how much I’ve been blessed with a particular bond that never in my earlier days of having a crush on someone had I thought I would’ve ever deserved. One that has been growing for half a decade, with somebody that can be virtually summed up as my completely-kind-of-guy.

The kind of companionship that is so brilliantly beautiful and strong, it survived so many possible kinds of challenges. The kind of relationship that still personally amazes me each and every day, for it is a living proof that the universe works in a certain strangely beautiful way to make two stranded puzzle pieces that are meant to fit each other eventually meet somehow and manage to see through each other. The kind of battle of mutual fondness and appreciation to win over ache and selfishness, which somehow finds its way to grow and last despite all the complicated mazes it constantly went through.

When I think of it, I am constantly feeling grateful and eager. Eager to explore all the future possibilities, of all the amazing things we could potentially do together. And all the future challenges we could potentially survive together again. The life-changing, mind-blowing, world-shaking things we could create. The more powerful magic dust we could sprinkle onto our surroundings. The greater things that are above and beyond the limit of what we could do now when our attachment is still left unrecognized by the laws.

I guess my feelings are not the only thing that reassure me that I’d very much like to grow old with you;

it’s also the thoughts of all the strengths we’ve collected and will keep collecting when we are together—that we could use to make bigger, more amazing things happen in the world. It’s also the thoughts that such a strong and wonderful relationship deserves a much better-defined goal and path to help make the world a nicer place for perhaps everyone. It’s also the thoughts that while we are young and free-spirited, we could maybe transform a piece of the world with our combined wild hearts and idealism. It’s also the thoughts that if love really is such a powerful energy to radiate, ours in a higher extent could presumably be the beginning of all the finest days of our lives—and maybe for others too.

A shitpost of raw and uncensored feelings:

Ain’t it such an ugly truth that two people can really love and adore each other so much, but are never meant to be able to protect nor take care of each other?

Most, though, I guess, can really love and adore each other so much despite realizing that they can never be effortlessly happy together. The extent of how much their feelings would be valid depends on, and only on, how much they’re willing to sacrifice for each other.

But I guess the most painful way to love is understanding how much you two can really love and adore each other—with all those complimenting traits, compatible principles and values, mutual interest and hatred towards all possible kinds of stuff, an agreement of how much each of you is such a million in one and one in a million of an absolutely complete package kind of soul tailored specifically by the universe for each other—but are not meant to show how much that “love” really means.

All the unabashed yet untold, undelivered love that lies behind the great tall wall that you both are trusted to not break.

Like that midnight when you were sleeping only a couple doors away after years of thousands of miles between us; yet here I am, only vomiting words of heartbreaks and affection because of the boundaries we set to stand between us.

I wish I had been able to give you a proper goodnight kiss, a warm goodnight hug, and an affectionate stare while closing your bedroom’s door; instead of a bittersweet, cold conversation in front of your bedroom’s door about how much we’ve been missing out and how far our feelings and understandings towards each other have evolved,

even after sixty-four months.

I love you as you know it, and I’ve been missing you way too badly for way too many days than I can count, and I hope that you do understand how much it would really mean for me if we could stay together for the rest of our lives—with no guilt involved.

Even though you do not seem to be the kind of guy who would be prepared to ask that one question that keeps us from being together once and for all, I still kind of hope you were, because;

my answer has always been a yes.

Moonlit Midnight of Men Murmuring

1:01 AM and somewhere across her room, a soul is responsible for unnecessary assumptions passing into her head.

Why, of all implausible excuses she keeps inventing by herself, this particular one turns out to be the most provoking?

Observation doesn’t seem to be of any help, she needs to ponder. Deep. Into rooms where perception and feelings are stored for long, for she has always been way too afraid to get close by.

But the answer has always been complicated and difficult, either to translate, or to appreciate.

All she knows that some things linger. And remain. And never escape.

Gentle pats on her head, awkward arms around her, the curly edges of ivory hair blown away by afternoon breeze,

the fairest colour of skin she has ever witnessed,

all that she saw, all that she felt because.

Slight details she would rather disremember about.

Somewhere across her room, two bodies are inside each other’s, yet it doesn’t scare her. For the only freedom she owns is her own train of thoughts, as her heart is sealed with loyalty, and her body is bounded with grace.

She just believes there’s a space for her,

always. Even between the adhered surfaces of two skins against each other that night.

She’s an entity he wouldn’t unhand.

Not now.

Errer

In times of yore, I used to fall for the idea of wanderlust. Stations moving behind night train window, eyes of spouses longing for immediate arrival in every corner of the airport, the smell of salty water slowly vanished within merchants’ old-fashioned perfume scent on cruises—all of them were all the kind of constancy that I kept witnessing each time. And I felt good, as well as alive. It was as if the entire humankind was within my neighbourhood and that all voyages were just routines that kept me sane. It was as if I never befriended the word “hometown,” or “settlement,” or “stay,” not even a chance to know the meaning of.

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Tryst

I am not a man of the present. I am recurrently ripped into part of me that clinged to the lingering past and a bit of me that agonizes the imminent future; particularly when I am undergoing seconds consisting of our tryst. At times we consume together, half of my emotions possess the joy of being surrounded by your existence, and the other half survives the unforeseen blues of fearing that this may not last long as I would like. I am, once again, not a man of the present.Certain piece of me wants to remain in the existing contentment, but the other opposes it with thoughts traversing time and phases I never want to befriend.

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Now what if.

I might want to be a museum custodian. But you might be just unhappy about me sticking with the past, even trying to collect every reminiscence of it. Seeing me saving lives we all knew have been over for long, presuming so much from them until the boundary between the right now and the yesterdays gets all blurred. Recalling old times when you were not even part of those scenes yet. What if you, enjoy it a bit too much, until the pleasure of living in the moment just disappears because the bygone days comfort you a bit too much, too? What if death and demise excite you? You insist me.

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Skins

Chairlift’s Bruises humming inside the head all week long. Cells repulsing below and above membranes. All whites to yellows turning brown, gray, black-and-blue. Inferno placed around feet, flames scorching knees. Reds leaking, us withstanding the aches, eyes catching me writhing. Misplaced analgesics. Goodbyes bequeathed here and there, to the favourite pieces of belongings. We feed trashes with gore. Tastes of sands linger.

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Bon Voyage

I love self-questioning. Almost as much as you love deep-questioning me about your unanswered contemplations, combined with my delusive afterthought.

Among all those beings you thought you would never fall for, why would you pick me?

You started over.

And I can not persevere to not to find out. To satisfy you. So before I get lost in my own imaginings, let me first jump on the time machine to travel a bit too prior, to the old days when I first officially proclaimed I would go this way. Your way.

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