The world around me slows down. My breath makes me feel like my lungs are the size of baby cups, and my eyes heat up like they’re boiling water.
My tears leave my eyes goodbye, so my voice cracks the saddest farewell. I don’t have any control over what happens, all I know is that I am in a dreadful fear of nothing.
It complicates me when mouths start asking whether I’m alright or not, for god’s sake my eyes don’t sweat, these are tears; an indication of physical or mental pain.
The icon of sad music and disappointment on daily basis (although not everyone cries from disappointment). Call this anxiety but my mother’s belonging was depression…for that matters.
And I can’t wait to find someone who gets excited for my affection and lets me cry on his shoulder even if it means he has to stay up late at some nights. I’ll make it up to him, I promise.
He deserves the gleeful me. He deserves thousands of kisses and compliments.
He deserves gentle caresses on his skin and a passionate palm pulling the nape of his neck for a long, warm, protective hug. I will be all about him.
I will kiss his forehead softly as he sleeps in the middle of my endless story telling session.
He would say “Maybe the world calls you mentally unwell, but I’d say that you have a talent in feeling things so deeply”. That, that earns him a grateful peck on his lips.
He might not be like the perfect guy everyone would die for in high school, but he’s the perfect combination of softness and sharpness. He knows how to touch my heart without touching my skin.
He accepts that I am a crazy ass person. He understands that it’s take me or leave me and he took me.