Wednesday, November 2, 2011


"If I've been on your mind,
You hang on every word I say,
Lose yourself in time,
At the mention of my name,
Will I ever know how it feels to hold you close,
And have you tell me, 
Whichever road I chose, you'll go?" -Adele

Most times I don't even know who the culprit is. Which one of us is contorting reality and dreams and concocting a bottomless pit to trap the other one into, not necessarily out of spite, and which one, pretending to be the victim, is resisting every little bit of this, somewhat possible without self-destruction, alliance. 

But even in those briefest of moments where I can figure out the roles played by each of us in this convoluted yet such a simple way of life that we've temporarily chosen, I fall face flat because every lead in this 'investigation' hits me, and each time more forcefully, with the realization that we're both equally the criminals as well as the victims in this suspense. 

Who is to say which one of us found whom. Maybe you made me catch on to the trail you so carefully left behind, or maybe, I lured you straight out of hiding because I knew exactly what you were looking for and exactly what you chose not to see. Knowing your target's strengths and weaknesses always made you that much more cautious, that much more powerful. We both knew each others, so then again, who is to say, which one of us was chasing and which was running. Who is to say, who caught up first. 

This wasn't meant to sound dirty, and conspiratorial. I hold you so close to me that now I enjoy a smugness to do with buying your time, or your energy, love or care. I know that you do too, a lot more than you let on. Then where did I get involved in something that forces me to say that I'm 'In too deep.' I checked the depth before I stepped in. It was nowhere close to drowning levels, but now I'm not so sure. 

I checked the weighing scales too, they were fair and not tampered with. Then how is it that in no time my side is tipping heavier? How is it that you keep unburdening your side? That shouldn't be allowed. If you're developing baggage, why don't you let me see it? Why do you have me under the impression that I'm the one that needs to be saved? When actually I'd much rather save you. 

When we kissed today, it was a lot slower than it should be permitted. It was like you didn't want to stop, like you were gathering every sensation that you could while it lasted. So who decides how long it lasts? You, of course. You say that you're scared of how intimate we are, while we're soaking up the warm sun right across from the dazzling sea, the same one that belongs to the entire city, but somehow uniquely belongs to you, after hours of only soaking up everything we could of each other. Like it would be the first and the last time that we could give and take so much without a soul watching, listening, intruding. I laugh and say it's because of my warm personality that you've never done this with anyone else before. You don't contest that.

We're interlocked in a very fitting way. You make me whoever you want to make me whenever you want to, without changing the essence of me. And I enjoy these escapes from me. Especially because I can remember these experiences that almost seem like out-of-body ones. Sometimes what would work best would ensure that I could take you someplace else too, and I get the feeling that I already do. But it scares you to admit that I have the power to do that. And the novelty of this all scares you out of your skin, and I can see it while I'm watching you watch me. It's unnerving but I'm filing these memories away because something tells me it's all I'm going to have left of you. And it's not much. But it should suffice. 

Nothing would have to change this if it wasn't what you were set out to do, and what I should be setting out to do. So just in a few weeks, I'm going to lose something special, something beautiful and something I didn't think I would ever have, only because it's so free of the shackles that usually accompany something so pristine. And you know what the worst part is about losing something that's like home to you? The fact that you know exactly when you're going to lose it and even worse, that you're going to be putting away the next decade of your life on hold just waiting for it to return. After all, it's home.



  1. I know what you mean. It's easier to pause than to stop: see if you can make it happen.

  2. I hate you for writing this; for showing me my life like i am watching in a mirror; for making me read the chapters of my own eulogy.
    How easy it is to embrace the end and live through it, i wonder!
    love n prayers!!

  3. It's really hard to accept something like this when you're one of the two people involved. It becomes hard to live with it after a point without saying it out loud. So when you do (or write it down for that matter) it makes it a lot less painful and almost like art. :)
    Thank you!

  4. Rough wind, that moanest loud

    Grief too sad for song;

    Wild wind, when sullen cloud

    Knells all the night long;

    Sad storm whose tears are vain,

    Bare woods, whose branches strain,

    Deep caves and dreary main,—

    Wail, for the world’s wrong!

    - Percy Bysshe Shelley (A Dirge)