I am supposed to think about the greater good. I am supposed to focus on my calling, things I am passionate about. I am to look for adventures, not sit here thinking of you. Over-analyzing all the words you said to me. One moment I am convinced that you meant every word you said. Because you looked in my eyes and you made me smile. Isn’t that how it is supposed to happen? I have been too out of touch. I have kept myself too out of touch because I am a fool and I am being foolish again. Of course you didn’t mean anything. You were in high spirits and I was in high spirits. And we both said and heard what we wanted to. High spirits make a bigger fool of us than we are. But here I am nevertheless, playing it, rewinding it and playing it again. Just one more time. And its 3 o’clock and I dug out a hole in my heart that I had barely been able to cover up from the last time. So, I will make this easier for myself.
Let’s play a game of what if? What if you did mean it? What if you do want me and I won’t turn out to be like all the other ladies before me? We will seek out the high spirits again and you will make me smile and laugh and make me feel good and soon enough I’ll start craving you. People like me get addicted to people like you very easily. And I will start changing myself according to you. I won’t say the words that upset you, that could anger you. I just want us to be right there, laughing. I just want that moment. But moments are fleeting. I always forget that. We will continue with our conversations. We will shut out the world and you will open up in secret. I will then tell you one of my secrets. The ones even my friends don’t know. And we will kiss under the drunken stars. Or maybe under the fort of your blanket. Or anywhere really, I don’t mind you kissing me anytime… anywhere.
But soon enough, the high will fade and you will become you and I will become me.
It won’t last because I will sabotage it. Or maybe you will. But more likely we both will strangle it. You will start fidgeting, I won’t be enough for you. I won’t find you compelling or challenging enough, and you will be just another pretty face unable to understand my fickle, rude, arrogant heart. And all the kissing won’t help it. And we’ll let each other get lost in the crowd again. Becoming perfect strangers.
There you go, sweet heart,
if it won’t last do we have to indulge in it?
Illustration courtesy: Harriet Lee-Merrion