You never liked my poker face, five years and it still bothers you. And this botheration is always followed by that same question, each time with the same tone of urgency to hear the answer.
“So, what are you thinking?”
And I always answer.
“I am thinking …”
And I have always been honest. Didn’t care if it had been the wrong thing to say at the wrong moment, didn’t care if it was bad enough to ruin a day. And trust me I have ruined a lot of days over my honesty. Because like your urgency to know every bit of my brain I too take in an urgency to spill my mentations out to you. It’s difficult to know everything about a person, if you know the how(s) you sometimes miss the why(s). There’s only this much you have of a person, at least that’s what I used to believe. Then I met you, saw you at your best, worst and then again best, saw you grow up just as you saw me growing up, experienced the changes together. Everything good and everything bad, and all that lies in the middle, I know all of it, I know all that is you. Every individual has their enigma, that special part of a person which belongs to themselves only. But over the years I have become a part of your enigma, and you’ve become a part of mine. And we are the ones who did it, not our time together, not our experiences, not those chances to see each other’s reactions. It was just us, because you and me, are two rare breed of discerning nosey arse who ended up together. This post is for you S. I miss you.
[Photo Credit: "The Kiss", at the end of World War II in Times Square - by Alfred Eisenstaedt, V-J Day, 1945]