Part of me wants this breeze to run through deep down my soul and a part of me wants to hide behind the walls. Part of me rolling under the lust of wandering and for a part of me running back to home is all it wants.
A part of me wants to dive to a vast, blue frosty ocean; touch the coldest part, shivering to the soul and a part of me is afraid to be felt drowning all alone.
A Part of me still long for every single touch of yours with all the love instilled, and a part of me wants to turn over the days to ensure we had never met at all.
And I don’t know what I want.
You might find me as fearless and selfish – because you see I do not get afraid of things you do. I don’t worry about if the sky will fall or the earth will burst into pieces? I do not pay attention to people you do? Why should I concern to these when I have my own plate in front of me? Fully embellished!
I have fears but they’re my own, hidden, melded under my skin and that your sightless eyes cannot see. I fear about letting things go that hurt me the most, I fear about falling for what I love, I fear to fight, I fear to cry, I fear to believe, I fear to be called stupid with no judgment skills, I fear to be heard and I fear to move on.
I have fears that scare me to death – but I have the courage, unflinching hope, deep humility and the resilience to live with these. And this do the magic, this makes me FEARLESS to you.
Real women are unique, passionate and graceful. More attracted towards respect and compassionate. They know how to be delicate, feeble and endure the pain. While being bold, valiant and brave same time. They love to be in love from head to toe, and they know how to be sour sometimes.
“Why do you write?” Somebody asked her.
“I do write because I cannot just speak, and believe this is the more expressive way to pour out what haunts me.”
“Oh I…” She murmured.
“These are not only words, these are the feelings wrapped into the letters, these are the longings that supplicate to be taken care and these are the traces for him to come and follow me. And I know – One day he would be able to reach it, one day he would get to know, how often & intensely I used to miss him. I write because I want him to feel all I feel, to hear what I never say and to go through all I have in my mind, continuously repeated.”
“I want him to have this all, at least once.”
What if I tell you I still fluster and think how would you be right now? What if I tell you I still buy cute little gifts and wonder would you like?
What if I tell you I still smile stupidly and talk to you back in my mind?
What if I tell you I still keep your photo in my phone and look when I am sad, tired or cannot fall asleep at nights? What if I tell you I still wander under the unclouded sky and desire to get you back?
What if I tell you I still love you and want for the rest of my life?