I neglect my novel and stare blankly at the ceiling. Its not that the novel bores me — its just that i have no time to be drawn into fantasy, when reality is much more charming.
I wrap myself under a blanket that sends warmth into my tensed up body. Not as warm as your arms when they are wrapped around me, but tonight this is enough.
Every time the idea of you surfaces, it seems like i cant relax. It seems like every cell in my body blossoms like a flower, it seems like my heart skips a beat. Its a good kind of tensed up though, if you wonder.
So this is how it feels like to be loved. To be in love. To love. This is that feeling everybody writes about. Everybody sings about. Everybody talks about. So this is the feeling of knowing something certain, knowing that there is someone who love you wholly.
I never thought i would finally end up in this bubble, where i finally found out that what the singers sang was real. That when you are loved, it makes you feel beautiful. And to know that I finally can love too, is even more mesmerizing.
I have always thought it was okay to be alone, that it wouldn't make any difference. I always thought i wasn't born for this kind of thing; i was not worth the love. I was too much for someone out there to handle.
And i didn't think someone would even bother to convince me that i am worthy enough to fight for.
But here you are now, staying. And it feels wonderful. It warms my heart, it sends heat to my body through my veins. And i didn't realize that i have been in the winter for too long, that i one day need to move somewhere and find my perfect sunny day.
I didn't realize that i was in denial. That i was somewhat hollow. That you were what i have missed all along, the water in my bereft ocean. The lyrics to my instrumental. The key for my keyhole.
But i am still too rigid to believe that this will last. I am still afraid that the sunny day is temporary, and i have to go back to my wintery city, where no sun can be found. I am afraid that when this is over, i will be even more damaged that i already had.
I am still afraid to hand you my cracked heart. Though its wonderful when you promised you will keep it safe, and hand yours to me.
I see past my white ceiling, i see past through it. I see stars, i see the flawless, far dark. I see you and your smile, and your smell and your crooked teeth. I see you and your rumbled hair, your plain black shirt and how fit my hands tucked into the edges of it so perfectly.
I see you. I see you far deep, i see that gold heart of yours and the cracks that makes it even more beautiful.
But do you see me?
Do you see me and my tainted heart. My hollowed and flawed heart. The messed up strings you cant untie. The scars, and the band aids?
If you did, will you still be like this?