13th December, 2013

If this blog were a bookshelf, I would be buried in its dust.
I wonder if it counts as intentional oversight or if my laziness has just transcended to a whole new level.

I spent the whole day revisiting my old PS2 games and Scrabble game with the mother.

I wish I could put into words how lost all this makes me feel. In my never-ending search for meaning in everything, I have only been shown further confusion.

I cannot even think of a title for this post.
100% rant, is all this is.
Perhaps some unease thrown into it.

My reading list on blogger had more than 20 blogs frequently updated. Bursting with stories.
Apart from a couple, the others are defunct.
I blame Twitter, really.
Words have more meaning and power than is felt and expressed by 140 characters.


I have no words left for tonight. Like I said, the bookshelf had to be tidied.





-
V

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Now Reading  :  http://www.theverge.com/2013/12/6/5126856/whats-in-your-bag-katie-drummond
Now Listening : Dreams Money Can Buy - Drake , Feel Good - Emil Berliner
Now Feeling : The onset of a sneeze.

Gift Wrapper

I think this story would deserve the title Airport Love - Part 2 but somewhere in the middle of its conceptualization the current title became more fitting.

Try listening to My Body Is A Cage by Peter Gabriel when you're reading this. A macabre mood does you good sometimes.

If you listened to me, then you're reading this at the airport as you wait for your flight.

Looking around at plastic smiles, plastic baggage, plastic cups and breathing recycled.
So I decided to have a conversation that Im certain I wouldn't have the guts to do face to face.

Something that is better left unsaid. But since when have I followed my own advice?

We've been together, what, 7 years?

Maybe there have been surprises here and there, small bouts of suspense. But overall, our relationship has been nothing but predictable.
Like walking into a Nolan film expecting to be awed.
Or expecting a Mani Ratnam movie to have a happy ending.
Life doesn't always have happy endings. Something I learnt from you.

But I remember vividly, the first night we spent together. Camping somewhere near Perth.
I remember waking up next to you. I remember wanting to wake up next to you, even if there was no dawn and no sunset.

I remember watching you wake.

I remember cooking for you. Serving wine to an already intoxicating person.
I still want to drive through northern French countryside with you.
But cruelly enough, I want to drive back alone.

The feelings I had, I will forever have for you. But I think my want for expressing them has been satisfied. It reminds me of something my mother used to do. Something that I never clearly understood until now.

She took more care in unwrapping the gift paper than she took joy in enjoying the gift.

I think our relationship has reached a point where anything more is certainly a gift.

A Wrapped Gift.
But I'm so much in awe of how perfectly our previous conversations have ended that I'm too scared to tear open the gift wrapper.

That somehow, crazily enough, I will enjoy our memories more than the process of making more.

So when you return from your trip; nothing will have vanished.
Except for me.

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I enjoyed writing this story. Dont hate, appreciate.

Now reading - The Return of Bruce Wayne - Grant Morrisson

Now Listening - We Swarm - The Glitch Mob

Now Feeling - Uh, Tired