I’ve been writing this since about 15 or 20 days, I can’t even remember at this point. This is the longest I haven’t posted in. It’s almost been a month at this point. There’s parts of this that were written then, and there’s parts I’m writing now. Though it really doesn’t matter which is which.
I’ve been struggling a lot with problems I didn’t expect to have. I’m not someone to
Writing a poem or something short and slightly ambigious is something I shy away from. My comfort zone is in honesty and long explanatory sentences.
I could stare at you for years at an end, and never grow tired. I could look into your eyes and the only distraction would be the spots above your cheeks. I could hold you till my arms went numb, and it still wouldn’t feel as if it were enough.
I’ve been writing this post since about the last week of August or something.
I’m writing now at 5:41 AM on the 17th of October. Why? Because I don’t know what else to do on these sleepless, workless nights.
I’ve never been this insecure of being with someone before, and though this person is from the past. Someone I’ve previously shared a life with, and never once felt insecure about. I now feel it.
I don’t particularly know why this is? Maybe I’m just not good at hiding things and I’d rather be official?
Or maybe because I know that with that comes understanding the helplessness of the years in front of us, at least 3-4 of which will be spend in different countries.
That’s a hell of a commitment.
Isn’t it weird, this was the first time we met FOR THE FIRST TIME in 3 years after a hellish break-up.
What am I even doing? Am I opening myself up to more pain than I can deal with, than I want to? I think I already have.
I’m in love with someone I spent the better part of the past 3 years trying to fall out of love with.
The only thing that’s changed is, it’s more intense. It’s purer, it’s healthy.
Other than the thought that I am willing to sacrifice more than I would’ve for ANY other person on this planet. And we’re only in month 2.
I guess my hairband switching from my wrist to hers, probably indicates the extent of how fucked I’ve let myself get.
Ab sirf sesh aur yaar bc mein kya kar raha houn bacha hai.
Maybe it’ll be okay.
Maybe it won’t be that hard.
He’ll maybe, everything will work out.
Or I’ll go through it all over again, probably much worse.
Fuck….
A Sane Undertaking 