It’s in the way you brushed your lips against my neck when I least expected it. It’s in the way you comfortably sit your arm around me as we split the crowded street into two. It’s in the way your eyes saw right through the defense walls I built that night.
It’s in the way you love me, that I am able to find myself again.
It started when you told me you were sick. We had only been apart for several hours and yet there I ran anyway, entertaining the urge inside me to make sure you were alright. You were lying weak on that bed, letting me take care of you.
Before I left, you kissed me. Gently, sparing no space for even the tiniest drop of self-consciousness. The way I imagined the sea would’ve kissed the shore each time he was given the chance.
For reasons I failed to comprehend, I didn’t mind.
For reasons I failed to comprehend, I said yes when you threw that question on me. And we kissed. Again. This time, swifter.
Somebody told you they didn’t like your work. The music was too simple, said he, and the sequence of footages were rather monotonic. Instead of being angry about his comment, you were sad—so sad you couldn’t think about anything else.
I found it adorable, because it’s simply an honest way of showing how much it meant for you.
I only wished that you would have more confidence about what you and your ideas are capable of achieving. That, with a lot of hardwork and discipline, will bring your amazing stories on every screen around the globe, fly you straight up to any world stage you want to.
You told me you were ‘just a guy’; I didn’t buy it. Everyone was once ‘just a guy’ (or ‘just a girl’, to be fair)—but opportunities would only visit those who decided to do something about their talent.
I promised myself to always remind you of that.
People have change of heart all the time. Mine chose to do so today. I said some awful things I didn’t know I could, and I was pretty sure I broke both of our hearts.
We made up.
I guess they were right to say that sometimes falling in love is like falling asleep—slowly, and then all at once. Guess I was too full of doubts and self-hatred to really understand what’s going on. But finally, I am empty (and airy) enough to receive your bright, warm affection.
I am finally sure enough to say that I fell for you. Not hitting the bottom hardly like in one of those modified lives in Hollywood screenplays, no. I’m rather jumping off a really—and I mean really—tall mountain, so tall that I’m still floating in the sky, wearing one of those parachute bags just in case I would need it at some point.
So yes, darling, I’m letting you in. I’m letting you in, to the parts of me nobody’s ever seen before.
We were at a concert. You picked a yellow heart from that cheap confetti the band just used—and offered it to me.
“Why not red?” I asked.
“It’s way too mainstream.”
I guess that’s how this s road of ours would be. Off the main highway lane—and instead, figuring itself out, one narrow alley at a time.