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Noctis Verses

“You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.” ― Saul Bellow

Misse(d)

I oftentimes wondered, how would I react to when someone said they missed me? Would I react appropriately, would I come across as an arse? Or something else perhaps.

The other thing would be — what about those who are missed? Would I be able to get my message across to them, would I be able to tell them how much they mean, how much they are missed?

Lately, my boy has been telling me about how much he misses me — and however much I tell him it’s mutual he doesn’t seem to really believe it (not that I blame him) since perhaps my actions aren’t matching with my words or perhaps it’s something else entirely. But, I hope he does realise that I miss him — when he leaves at 21 hours everyday – I miss him then too.

Not to mention, that with him it wasn’t the lonely kind of missing at 2 in the night, it was more on the lines 3 in the afternoon — surrounded by people but, not him.

When I say I miss him — it isn’t the corny “Oh, I miss him” it’s more “I wish he was here”

Someday, somewhere — I hope I can respond in kind to people, those who make an effort to have me in their lives, those who have mentioned they miss, those who have bothered with me

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Breather

It’s been suffocating lately.

I feel like a mime stuck inside a box — no room to breath, no room to move.

Stuck in a monotonous cubicle — with a smogged cityscape behind me with its towering concrete and steel beams on the double.

Not that I was doing any better, nor was the suffocation helping.

To top it off, you know — being a mental health patient wasn’t worth it, with the depression, anxiety, insomnia and waking up in puddles of sweat due to cold sweat every time I slept — among others was keeping me rather grounded (chuckles)

But

I had my breather

I happened to write him a little something — while we sat under the evening sky with a friend

“Him (?)
Yes, him
The boy with the wicked smile —
Breather

In the glum suffocation,
Of the concrete
And of those smogged cityscape(s)
He was a breather”

(While it still stands incomplete – but)

While, I am still suffocating under all this concrete — my breather is keeping me afloat.

Here’s to the smile, that saves me from the suffocating in this concrete jungle

Stranger (?)

If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.

Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Happy sufferin’

“Sometimes one has suffered enough to have the right to never say: I am too happy.”

― Alexandre Dumas, The Black Tulip

Back (!)

It’s been a long week – now that he was back it seems more homely.  This boy was becoming more valuable to me day after day – with each passing moment it was slowly slipping through the cracks between my clenched fingers (this was scary)

How did this person come to mean so much, so soon? Last I checked, while he did make me smile a bit more, I hadn’t let my walls down (yet, here he was making me smile a lot more I’d generally do)

But, now that he was back – this strange city felt more homely than usual, perhaps because he was back? 

Over, where?

“Thomas Edison’s last words were “It’s very beautiful over there“. I don’t know where there is, but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s beautiful.” 

― John Green, Looking for Alaska

Craving(s) ?

It was coming along to be a long week, a rather long. I would catch up myself picking up my phone in hopes of seeing his name pop up on the screen. 

People were assuming I was falling in love, how could I come to blame them – I was raving about this boy to everyone close to me, I wanted them to know about this boy; this fluff ball of sunshine, adding colour to my otherwise mundane life 

If someone would ask me who’d I like to be with at this given moment, his name would inevitably slip from between my pursed lips – if that’s what it was coming down to, why not? If missing someone enough would make me fall in love with their presence in my life, sure I wouldn’t disagree with it. 

My only regret at the moment would be that there was nothing I could do about this itch, this itch that was being created by the craving of their presence (Mind you, I don’t really do regrets

This one’s for the boy adding colour to my monotone

 

Friend (?)

“It’s not love or anything, but I think I like you, too.” 

― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Love (?)

It’s almost midnight, there’s me, my loneliness and a bottle of Champagne – while I’d ideally pour for myself and put jazz on the vinyl tonight’s a bit different. I poured for two and put Sinatra on – probably I missed his smile, voice, him (?)

It was turning out to be an old school chic flick, with its sloppy romanticism and idyllic romantic symbolism

Here’s to being in love but not

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