I often dream, nay desire, where life would be for me if I had a comfortable companion - lover.
To people, that companionship comes in different shapes and forms; different emotions and experiences to share; different actions and moments of solitude.
I, for example, do not yearn for a partner who would go run in the rain uncovered to bring me a raincoat under the shed. I yearn to sit in the bed passing a joint while my partner reads me a book that fascinates us both and we discuss our theories.
Because why would I want to glorify his suffering that comes from a long run of rom-coms making me believe sacrifice is a form of love.
For example, I would relish in the affinity of eating a comforting meal and watching a detective show in silence.
To be able to coexist without crossing the boundaries of personal space.
For example, I crave for the simple nuances of a hand in my hair but I am so touch deprived that I fear the thought of a hand extending towards my jaw.
How would an understanding of contradictory behaviour look in the eyes of my lover.
For example, the mere thought of music, literature, art enveloping the consciousness of our very being excites me in a warmer shade of orange than the baby pink flowers blooming in my chest.
Intellectual pretentious, you may call it, to me itās like walking in a renaissance fair and discovering beauty and fear in non living things for the first time.
But alas, itās all to vain.
Unfortunately, I do not have a āwhy?ā to that.
I simply yearn, only to forget and turn the pages of the unfinished screenplay in front of me.
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