This and more, forever...

All yours,

Babyblue. 

My dear Sunshine

My dear Sunshine,

I am here, writing something after ages. If it wasn't for you, I would not have come back here for some more time. This page reminds me of some things I used to be, some things I used to have, a life I was comfortable in, a life that was very difficult to let go of. They say you can't survive in the wild if you get used to living in a cage. The life I had left surely had its perks, but to me it was a cage I had to break out of. That life had a different me at a different time, that me felt hollow but stronger, this me feels fulfilling but broken, that me had hope, this me is hopeless. Hopelessly in love.

Oh my Sunshine, where do I start and where do I stop? I wish I could open my heart for you and show you what I have been through, the gradual process of becoming the person I am today, why I am the way I am, with my stubborn ideals at the expense of a good life. I wish I could tell you things I think of whispering only to your ears. May be then I will stop feeling this immense sense of loneliness that I feel. I still don't know if you'd have ever believed or understood me, there are just some things you gotta see to believe, unfortunately or fortunately, me and my life are such two things, now I know.

Sunshine, I wanted to tell you that wherever I am, whatever happens, I always think of you. I think of you so much that sometimes I keep praying to get impatient, and then I look back and deduce, I have been through enough already, if this had failed to make me impatient, probably nothing will. This scares me Sunshine. I don't want to love you the way a drowning man loves air, because it would destroy me to have you just a little. But in my reality I have you just a little.

Lately I have fallen under the trap of jealousy and comparison. All my life I have happily lacked these two traits, but now with time and built up anger they have emerged in me. So these days I look around, I look around and see, to most, love is a game of give and take, and best suited are the ones who understand this. You give me something to make my life easy, I give you something back to make your life easy, voila, that's the recipe of love. A recipe that smells more of tactics than feelings. And I have seen people being genuinely happy playing tactics all their lives, which has led me to believe may be it's not that bad. May be there are two ways to do things, and both are right. But Sunshine believe me I tried loving you this way, I cant, I am blind to what you are giving me, all I care about is what I am giving you, and that my Sunshine is a recipe for my doom, not love.

I don't care Sunshine, may be there are two ways of loving, may be there are a hundred, but there is only one way I can love you. I love you, with no beginning and no end. I love you not for you but for myself. I love you because I want to be your strength, so what if you remain only as my weakness. Real love is always chaotic. You lose control, you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos. It’s a given and that’s the secret. That's the secret to my recipe of love. There is nothing more terrifying or fulfilling, than complete love, it's worth the risk and I want to reach for it. But I want to reach for it with you Sunshine, only you.

Doom!

all yours,

Babyblue. 

Love

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

...I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

---Pablo Neruda

Everything good and everything bad

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]