Posts here
have become erratic, needless to say. However, I don’t remember saying I’m a
writer and I write because I’m one. I didn’t have a reason to until yesterday,
maybe
For the
past one year, evenings were romantic. I realize this after I’m denied the
comfort of spending my evenings at home. Am I missing those days? Perhaps, no.
There’s a need to coin a word to describe the feeling.
The joy of
leaving sticky notes for the other to find is unparalleled. But it doesn’t stop
there. While on one hand I cannot say how much I yearn to see the reaction on
finding a love note, on the other, I can’t afford to be cloyingly sweet. More
so when I’ve a point to prove and a life to live. So, while the rest of the
world sleeps and while I’m away, I pray for my home to be safe and built on
love. There’ve been O-So-Many times I’d heard my heart beat louder than the
crowd around, felt nauseated by the rat race I’m in. And then I silence it,
trample my desire to give in and off I go into the sunset.
Having been
away for most of the day has made me come to terms with the fact that I did
fall in love with the guy I met 5 years ago, and how. Mornings have never been
so special, and home has never looked more inviting. As beautiful as it sounds,
mornings do end, no? And every day has its sunset. And with every sunset the
rat race beckons. I choose to overlook and shift focus on to a faint signal
that struggles to find footing. With open arms, I embrace. Joy.
