• wisteria_ 74w

    In these nights of half promises, and half sanity, and less than half of being in touch with myself, I wonder what I can think and write. Maybe I can just spill some words secretly in a document and delete them, never reading it again. Or maybe I could show it to the world, and let them judge me. Neither makes a difference, does it? Hiding truth from those who won't recognise my face, isn't much good work, in fact it's only extra work.

    Maybe I'm left with nothing new to say. But lately I have experienced the happiness. The kind which comes with deep clouds of questions, doubts, thoughts, and a sunshine of a person hugging me to say he'll be there for me. And in that moment, in that second, I don't doubt. I always wondered what happens once someone meets you halfway at the bridge and you cross it together, I had never let anyone stay that long, except him. And everyday, we walk past things, we forgive, we learn, we love. We cry, we smile, we try to keep some space to change, to be friends. We walk.

    Maybe love is as easy, or as complicated, or maybe it's just a word. Only a few days ago, I bombarded a friend's inbox will million questions. And he answered them all, with his profound understanding. Ultimately, I just think, it's the future, I have to look forward to, and not the past. I have to share more of who I am with the people closest to me, than who I was. And even then, I have found a way to be more honest, and surprisingly somehow, people around me have found a way to be accepting. Beyond I could have imagined.

    I was wondering, how I barely have friends among those who I see everyday, and how some people, who I talk to so less, are the ones who know more about me than I would ever have thought about telling anyone. And isn't it one of the best feelings in the world, to be able to share your thoughts? Say the words you mean, and allow the other person to do the same. Eventually, stories, are all what we leave behind, aren't they? Stories of our being, our feelings. And that's how we are remembered.

    I know there's a certain way I talk in, and sometimes I wonder if that makes someone hate me, or dislike me or maybe even like me. But I choose not to care as long as I'm not trying to be dishonest. I'm yet to learn forgiveness completely though. Or how to gulp down love and care. Or how to ignore inevitable conflicts and screams. I'm yet to learn a lot.

    Maybe a few brave steps, towards who I want to be, will change a lot about how I think of the way I have chosen for myself. Maybe a few braver steps, and I might start smiling more to the mirrors. Maybe.