relationships

Let it be that I told you my truth.

My liquids and gifts have no meaning for you. You barely touched them today.
I did everything. Tried all tactics. Even used ruse to make you stay.
You smiled at me, but pushed me away.
You held my hand, yet looked away.

Double signals? Doubt? Uncertainty?
Remorse? Regret? Fear?

My smug remarks make you chuckle in that cute way that exposes your neck.
Yet, I know that as much as you enjoy the chat, you want to leave. Your hands beg.
You didn’t stay up to thirty minutes.
Subtly ran, as though I were a human sized pilus.

As I write this, I finish your leftover chocolate.
The one I got for you. A race that had me return your call late.
As I write this, I finish your red wine.
The one I got for you. I strangely feel sad for that wasted grape vine.

I have told you my truth. I have been as honest as I could be.
If my openness is not acceptable by society, let it be.
Let it be that I told my truth. Let it be that I carried my heart on my sleeve.
Let it be that way, because no one knows when I’d have to leave.

I know these are hard times. Given our history.
I know my words lack substance, given my urgency.
To your doubts, and worries. I have one question:
How long does it take for you to realize that the length of a human life is never enough to love fully?

If I can have a single minute of love- a moment of mutual respect and cordial happiness. A relationship based on more than kisses and things done in the dark. Based on friendship, respect and truth.
If I can have one shot at making you smile every day because it is what brings me the most joy.
If I can have one shot at making you see you the way I see you.
If I can look into those brown eyes and articulate the truth in my veins…

One shot.

I’d better take the shot and fail, than live never having tried.
You know that when I say: “I like you”. I really mean “I Love you”.
You also know that there are no other ways of saying it.

Give me my shot, let me show you.
Or tell me no, and let me go.
Either way, you own me.
Royally so.
(Or rather, painfully so)

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I’ve lost you, and it feels right.

The blaze is gone.
Wet flames, all that is left. Mud ash.
Your touch is foreign.
I can see it in your eyes- I failed you.

We used to chat, on Facebook, for so long.
Stale talk, all that is left. Burnt stash.
Our embrace now means nothing.
You know I see it too. It’s no more “we” but “you”.

I know it’s my fault. I’ve known all along.
You tried, with all you had. Never brash.
I could do better.
They don’t speak. But they sense it too.

This is the longest bond I have forged.
Or did I? What’s left? Pictures and emotional mash.
I don’t deserve you.
They knew this day was coming. I did too.

For a long time, I have been alone.
You showed a page I’d never read.
Pores through which I’d never bled.
With you, for an eternal second, I was at home.

I know what would happen.
Its inevitability is almost hilarious.
It has happened before. I have been here before.
Only, you have too. But not with me.

Hence, we will thread new territory.
One I am all too familiar with.
We had more than our own moments of intimate revelry.
We will bleed. I know I would. I will need stiches.

I wish we could hug over a cup’a coffee and shake hands.
I wish in a few years, we would laugh over the past months.
We would think of how much we grew and how much we out grew each other.
Lies. Falsehood. Sky bound castles.

I have grown. I see this coming and I feel nothing.
No pain. I bleed, without pain. Without strain.
I knew this would happen.
The first time you smiled, I knew this would happen.

So, when I say “It’s my fault, not yours”, I am not being flattering.
It is the truth. I don’t know how to do “this”.
Actually, I do. I just don’t want to.
And the mashed stashed of thoughts I need to scream is because of this.

You are a good person. You have shown me love.
You have shown me care. You have shown me tenderness.
You showed me reason. And I thank you, for showing me one thing:
Family.

I have grown. And I know I am not cut for this.
I have accepted, finally, who I am. And who I want to be.
Who I must be. Who I need to be.
What and who I am ready to sacrifice.

Love is a choice I make every day.
Love is a concept I learn every day.
Love is a feeling you articulated.
Love, is what I saw in you.

What I saw. But, no more.
Goodbye, my pillar. My anchor.
I sail to my lake. One I know all too well.
One in which I built the island on which I thrive.

I hope you feel pain. I hope you miss me.
I want to have meant something to you.
I want to have meant something.
I want to.

I hope you hate me. I hope you forget me.
I hope you ignore my calls. I hope you don’t reply my messages.
I hope you unfriend me. I hope you block me.
I hope you blacklist me.

I won’t forget you. My mind is my curse.
The same mind that doesn’t comprehend love.
The same that would look back at this moment in the future and mock raucously.
The same that needs you to hate me now.

Slap me. Plot against me.
Tell everyone how truly heartless I am.
Tell them the truth.
They don’t deserve to know. But you deserve to tell.

I am not a good person.
I don’t deserve your forgiveness.
So, don’t forgive me.
But, by all means, don’t ever think you could have done anything differently.

Because I knew how this would end.
I knew it all along. For months I fought.
And now, I’ve lost.
And it feels right.

Goodbye, my pillar.

Another Awkward Goodbye

The last time we met…you told me to be strong. You held me for so long, I wondered: ” Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
The last time we met, you sat quiet for a while, didn’t say anything vile, nor kiss me like you used to-wild.
You didn’t look into my eyes.

She whispered, face blank like wild tiles.

Today, I leave you. My heart is gone. My tears beneath you. My fire is dead and my mission is complete. I got you and there is nothing to compete.

I don’t understand. Isn’t that the point of it all?
Isn’t that the value of a bond? The essence of our song? The melody of my memories?
Where is this coming from?

It’s not you, it’s me. I know. And I should have left without you ever noticing. I should have let you bleed alone in the weight of your tears and the hush of your pain.
I should have left…but for one thing….

What one thing? Have you changed your mind? Have you come to your senses? Do we break down the fences and merge our defenses? Like the partners we’ve been for these years months, like the glitter in the eye of the moon. My glitter…my moon, what is this one thing?

I need a …ride?

Time and (all) my high school friends.

It’s interesting how time doesn’t change high school relationships.
For me anyway.
I still laugh at the same jokes and get bored at the same instances.
I still click with the people I did ten, fifteen years ago.
And, ( very important for me at this moment in my life plot) I get to know why there was a tiny,itsy-bitsy voice that said:

“Dude, this ‘friendship thing’ just won’t work out”.

At the time, I thought it was the cold in Belo. That waking up and taking an ice cold bath at 5a.m. for 7 years had traumatized me to “Ghost Whisperer’ mode.
Or rather, “Cynic Whisperer”.
Now,I know better than to NOT listen.
When the voice says:

“Dude, something is off with that guy/dude/person”.

There is only one thing to do: Run like I would if I were in Pompeii.

P.S: Pretty hopeless run huh?

P.P.S: It’s my birthday month! Yay. I once wrote a pretty “sad” post about my birthday. Actually, this would be the first in a long time that I celebrate without being in some sort of school.

Totally rad yeah? ( Er…for me anyway… 🙂 )

I’ll be getting pretty pretty old in 7 days. I’d be doing a special post.
An “answer post”. So!

What would you like to know about me?

All this time I have been away, I tried to put a summary here. It’s a very short summary. Trust me. Also, I know there are things I have mentioned that I haven’t written ( or made a poem ) about yet.
So, for my 26th birthday, tell me what you’d like me to write about in the comments section.
Thanks in advance!

P.P.S.S ( Is that even allowed?): Thank you so much for following my blog. Every ‘like’ thrills me immensely.
It means a beautiful human somewhere on this beautiful earth of ours thought that what I wrote was pretty cool enough to click “like”.

Your attention is priceless.

Thank you.

p.s. I hate your boyfriend

Bummer

“I know you like me…that you always have, but we both know this …this is not going to happen. At least I do. I like you as a friend. That’s it. Whenever we talk about any of the guys in my life you always shoot me that look.

I understand. I know it’s not going to change. You’re always going to feel this way about me until you find someone you really like. Someone you’d really…love

Sometimes, I understand why Taylor Swift writes (and sings) so passionately. Am I wrong to say ‘everyone wants to be loved’? Or, could I push further to say everyone needs to be loved. I am not a ‘love expert’ (neither am I a Taylor Swift pundit). However, I am a ‘me’ expert. Or so I thought until she said that.

Let’s call ‘she’…Sofia. Unlike Margaret and Martin, Sofia and I never shared a blissful moment of interlocked mandible covers. Nope. We were…well… ‘Friends’.

I will be honest with you, I find it hard to be friends with girls. Generally speaking. It’s not as though I have a crush on every woman I meet…

Alright fine. Yes. A little. I have micro crushes that last for about 5 seconds each. Some last longer…like the ones I have for Andrea Bomo, Ade Kelly and Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie.…xoxo.

A  Sapiosexual Problem

I find smart women particularly attractive. And there are many of them where I come from. But, I know (and want) to find one person I would gladly spend the rest of my life with. I don’t know what ‘qualities’ she would have nor ‘what I want in my (ugh..I can’t believe I’m using the word) “perfect” woman’.

But,I know what I don’t want. And I have this firm belief that when I find her, I’ll just …you know…know.

I have had a crush on Sofia for three years. Today, she was honest enough to give me the unadulterated truth of how she felt about me.

It hurt. A little.

Okay Okay! It hurt big time. I almost wept.

But then again, what’s the point? It’s not as though I am the most eligible bachelor around town.

I mean… come on, who writes about his crushes on his very public blog? Are you sure you want to date that guy?

I won’t. (*raises eyebrow* or would I?)

Lessons learnt?

Sofia’s frankness only made me respect her more. However, my crush died. Something else was born.

Respect: In a world where most people seek to take advantage of other’s trust, love and use them to selfish ends, silver linings like Sofia remind me( though painfully) that there are still good people left. That the darkness of narcissism hasn’t consumed all souls.

She’s right though: until I find someone to share all I have and am with, it would be difficult to move on.

Difficult, but not impossible.

I am young. With a lot to learn. I am just glad I was able to see this day and learn this lesson from a friend.

Thank you Sofia.

p.s. I hate your boyfriend

Blog Title involves being single and associated emotions

From @himanivatyani's profile

I know I promised you two posts but I’d like…with your permission…to get a little selfish here to talk about…well…me. 🙂 
Also because I am lazy and still working on the other  posts.
Seriously though, I had to write this post. Yesterday evening was awful.
My original title for this post was : “I am single and it sucks”. My  friend told me I would sound like such a loser.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I sound like a loser.
Maybe I am  a loser.

 But, being single and being a loser have one thing in common:
both suck.
And in the post, I’ll explain why it sucks so much.
For me at least.

Or maybe I could discover at the end that it doesn’t and that I just want somebody to love me as much as I love her.
And that that somebody should not be my mom.
Like a best friend I can make-out with.
What beats that?
Priesthood maybe.But then again, it had never EVER crossed my mind to get into priesthood.
We’ll have this discussion another day.
I am single and it sucks.

I AM SINGLE.


Why? Entirely my fault. I complicate every conversation and I am always looking for a reason to be the smarter one. I have stringent rules( which I hardly obey) and expect everyone to. I use my brain more than my heart.
Word of advice: Don’t be an idiot. Don’t be me.
I lost the ‘idea’ of the ideal wife( yes, wife…not girlfriend) a long time ago.
 Here is what the profile of my ideal wife looked like:
A. Short in stature( to be precise…shorter than me)
B.  Fair in complexion( what is it with fair in complexion chicks? Maybe it’s my Dad’s fault…)
C. Speaks fluent English and French ( yep I am a language nerd)
D. Loves cooking( duh)
E. Loves kids and wants to have at least four( and bonus if she would ensure that the first is a girl)
F. Plays Chess.
G. Plays video games.
H. Loves books and movies.
I. Organized. Very.
J. Less lazy than I am( very important this point was)
K. Meticulous with money.
L. Other positive values.
M. More positive and ESPECIALLY unrealistic values.
N. More.
O.You get the point
P-Z. If you have not gotten the point…just…continue reading.
Yep.
I lived with this human in my head.
This image of the ‘perfect’ *scoffs* girlfriend.
Rubbish! 
Why do I keep creating humans in my head?  Maybe I take marriage too seriously.
Anyway, that is what the profile for  my ideal girlfriend  looked like.
 I still have a profile now.
Who doesn’t?
Don’t judge me! Consciously or not, if you look at the ladies or men you accost  (especially those you are dying to get romantically involved with), the character traits  become evident. For example:
1. I have hardly sustained a long relationship with a lady who spoke just French or English.
2. I love eating and am quite lazy so, I get really irritable when the hunger kicks in. I eat to live harmoniously with other humans.
This is paramount to my relationships.
Those who know me would confirm this.
3. And if a lady( or even dude) can’t sustain a conversation of more than 15 minutes with me, there is a likelihood we will not be having conversations AT ALL.
Communication =Relationships 101. Basics.
Yes,I do have a profile.
Not of the ideal woman anymore. There’s no such thing as ‘ideal’!
I think the word  was invented by a grumpy single grammar nerd who knew exactly how unfair the world was and chose to punish lots of humans after him. I am certain it was a ‘he’.
Only men get that grumpy.
Long before my crush crushed me, I had already had a change of heart concerning my principles . So, here goes nothing…
 Profile of my not-so-ideal woman:
A. Ambitious.
B. Will work honestly to achieve her goals.
C. Stubborn.
D.Likes me.
-An ambitious woman  can easily become an idea machine.
-Someone who works honestly won’t do evil or use people to achieve his or her goals.
-A stubborn person fights for her beliefs.
-Anybody who likes me deserves to be ‘liked by me’.
 Note that  I did not say ‘Loves me‘.
Now that is a complicated. It is a word that makes me grateful to be human. Just like the concept of The Holy Trinity. If you can understand those two, there’s a high probability you are not human.
You’re not supposed to understand them.
At least in my opinion.

 IT SUCKS!

I am not a slave driver. I don’t want people to work FOR me but WITH me. I believe the highest level of any human relationship is interdependence. Everyone relying on each other.
Complementarity.
Yesterday night, I returned from a long day in school and from running errands around the city.
Exhausted.
I could feel in my eye sockets the desire to have someone help take my shoes off while I laid on my back. This someone, coaxing me gently into a bath and then preparing a delicious meal for my revitalization.
And she, muttering the most awesome phrase in the world:
You’ll be alright”.
I looked at my room, the emptiness, the scattered and unwashed garments.
It sucked.Truly did.
I was hungry and tired. I stepped out, bought some food by the roadside. Ate a little and started writing. Too exhausted to finish, I slept without even my daily reading regiment.
I slept alone, in my cold but comfortable mood. Sent a couple of text messages and introspected a little.
I have not always been this way.
I won’t die of loneliness-that I’m certain.
My mother raised me well, I can cook and take care of myself.
But, some days, I just wish I had someone to look after me.
Is that so much to ask?

My Wrenching Story of The Awful Truth or Dare (or How My Crush Crushed Me).

I regret the day I took part in the truth or dare.
If only I had known the feeling there would bring such despair.
Therein was a lass I digged, one I truly eyed.
The sort of person who stirred unspoken joy whenever she came in sight,
With her dark brown skin and gorgeous smile,
the picture of our wedding fit in my mind like multiple square tiles.
Whence me turn came I chose truth.
I approved not of the whole scheme but I condoned…not wanting to appear brute.
A question was asked and yours truly answered:
I left no doubt as to that I love feeling pampered.
Milady’s turn approached and I expected from her a certain…grace.
Little did I know in a few minutes I would be pulling my hair in disgrace.
” Kiss Mr. X for 5 minutes!”,was the order.
I ran short of breath as coursed through me a cold shudder.
With a synthetic carefree glance I prayed she’d say ” NO!”.
Boy…little did I know…
She hugged him closely as I watched furiously,
Amidst the drunked jeers they kept at it religiously.
Two minutes became ten.
At that point, to myself ,I could no longer pretend-
The crush,the respect I had, had flown away.
The soul I had thought pure had already been strayed.
The word that fit: betrayed.

It’s not Ok. In truth, it’s not.

I had never spoken to this lady. The first time we ever had a semblance of a conversation was yesterday-and I was rude to her. She had every right to say what she said.
I was on the wrong.
I know I was. There is no justification. I talked back. There were 8 or more persons in the room and when I retorted, the room fell silent. Everyone was surprised. Or so I found out later.
I have been on edge lately and this lady is not the first victim.
I have problems with relationships- not love relationships only, but relationships in general. I find it hard to express myself completely. It’s almost as though my whole being wishes to be misunderstood.
I don’t have a girlfriend, (I could almost say: “Thank goodness”…but then…who am I kidding?).
I can’t stand myself sometimes. I get depressed and I am a total asshole when I want to be-I single handedly hurt my ex-girlfriend, my new friend and now, my ex-girlfriend’s best friend.(:D I just wanted to use ‘friend’ four times in one sentence).
I find it hard to trust and when I do, I overexpect ( is that even a word?”overexpect”…eh…)
Lately, I have reduced the duration of conversations with my brother,(I’m being euphemistic here). If I had it my way, I would live alone. I find it better to handle things in isolation.
I need many things (duh…who doesn’t?)- Books, a new PC, a camera, internet access etc.
The list is not that long. I’m probably exaggerating .I ‘m very good at selling my case anyway.
However, when it comes to feelings-I get really, really dumb.
For example: if I see a lady I like, I freak out (I’m good at hiding it), but then I exhibit this cool, calm, funny even smart (yep…I surprise me self everyday) dude who is very friendly- AT ALL TIMES!
If I see someone I respect or admire, I find a way to mess it up. Someway, somehow I succeed.
News Flash! I am an evil genius!
Whatever.
I have a dark side. I want to believe everyone does. Some are better at managing the explosions.
The problem is: I’m not.
I’m not good at saying: “I’m fine”, when I’m not. I can pretend for a while but after a few hours, if you look at my eyes you can see the pain, the tears, the soundless wailing.
I can’t voice it. I can’t shout. I can’t talk straight.
I keep it inside. It eats and burns; churning and stirring waiting to seep out.
Some days I succeed; most days I fail.
Yesterday I failed.
I burst open.
I burst every day. Every blessed day I burst in silence. I cry and curse behind my smiles and jokes.
The beauty is ,no one sees through. No one hears me.
I wish the tears could drip. That for once, in my fake smile after a crafty joke, someone would pull me over and say:
“Hey man, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing is wrong! I can see it in your eyes”.
I apologized later. After a few hours, I went up to her and said; I was sorry about what I told her and explained the situation. I even added: I was hungry and sad. I had a strange face. It showed neither hunger nor sadness.
I actually was both and even more.
But I was truly sorry.
She smiled and said:” It’s Ok”. That she had felt really surprised at my words but that it was Ok.
I didn’t feel it was Ok. I still don’t.