I wish I was

Impervious
Protected
Impenetrable
Invulnerable
Stronger
Logical
Secure
Cold
Distant
Detached
Selfish
Self-centred

I wish I was
More like you

Happy birthday, you

There are some traditions which are worth following. The rest might fall by the wayside, what with changing lifestyles and too much work, or too less work, or a multitude of other reasons.

This tradition though, I shall keep at. Every year. Hopefully.

Both of us know how important words are. How much they mean to both of us. And how sometimes, they make the best gifts, barring hugs. And yes, we don't really keep in touch. And yes, we end up complaining about the same things way too much. And yes we might disagree on a lot of things (SMOKING). But we also agree on a lot of things too (that whatsapp smiley is awesome, walks are good etc).

Your last birthday letter is pinned up on my board at home. And the notebook you gave me travels everywhere with me. It doesn't smell like coffee anymore, but it's full of my favourite words.

I miss you, and think of you a lot. Who else will come and steal food from me when she has run out of money because she ate one too many times at a fancy place? Who else will I make coffee for when I am saving milk for breakfast the next day? Who else will I take long, conversation-filled walks with? And who else will calm me down when I need someone after 48 hours of no sleep (you know what I'm talking about)?

So here's a birthday note from me to you.

Have a great day, love.

With lots of tight hugs,
Your teddy bear.

Grey, blue, white
The clouds whisper

Listen close, listen well
And you will hear the stories they tell

Secrets
Of the ever-expanding sky
Of the horizon they own
Of the exploits of the wind
Of the heartbreaks of the stars

Tales
Of
Petrichor,
Lightning,
Storms.

Stretch your hands out
And just maybe
They will let you touch them

Grey, blue, white
Elusive
Mystical
Gorgeous

You are cloudy days
Overcast skies

You are the promise of rain
When it's coming
But you know not when

You are confusion
Contradiction
Thunder and lightning
Fire and electricity
Powerful

You are a hurricane
Of doubts and fears
Devastating
Punishing

You are a black hole
All-consuming
Famished
Yearning
Needing

Yet human
Imperfect and flawed

You are everything
And nothing

Me.
Mine.

Comfortable

I tend to think in pictures. And there are certain pictures that are constantly in my head. That I tend to hold on to, that I wish I could translate to reality. They are extremely cliched, but for me they are important. It's a paradox, seeing as how I hate being cliched, but hey, sometimes it's allowed.

A sheet under a tree on a breezy evening. Me, leaning against said tree, reading. Or proofing/editing what could possibly be the next big bestseller. You lying with your head on my lap. Dozing or reading or listening to music. Or even just daydreaming.

A comfortable four-poster bed. With a massive and extremely soft blanket. Us cozy under said blanket, watching something on a laptop or on the BIG TV.

You are lounging on a sofa. Channel surfing. And I am on the floor, resting against the sofa, reading or working. Your hand is lazily playing with my hair.

The one thing common in all these things is how comfortable it all is. Feels as natural as breathing. It's just the presence of you that is important. What you are doing is irrelevant. It's familiar, it's warm, it's a feeling of home.

Because being with you, is like being home.

Naked

Naked
Powerless
Beautiful
Raw

Stripped
Of defences
Of masks
Of walls
Of pretences

Completely, truly vulnerable
Trusting
Scared
Honest
Frail
Human

Giving
Surrendering
Entirely
All one has
All one is

No protection
No guards
No lies

You might see me without my clothes.
But only I can choose when you can truly see me naked.

Two Double O

So it's that time again. When I try to come up with something genius to signify this milestone in my life, because a milestone it is.

Two hundred posts. And four years of writing. About fifty posts per year, four posts per month, on average. That's quite a bit if you break it down.

And again, after thinking about it for the longest time and drawing a complete blank, I am just going to say that I am thankful.

For books. For language. For the ability to translate to writing all, okay, most of the thoughts that swirl around in this head of mine; for the ability to string together a coherent sentence. For an outlet. For communication and conversation. For poetry and art. For inspiration. For thought itself. For great thinkers and authors. For the ability to remember and record. For memory. For colour and light. For pictures. For technology.

I am thankful, for words. They are all I have. All I ever will have.

Four years, two hundred posts, and a never-ending journey of discovery.

Here is to you, dear blog.

Here is to me.