wellow

random thoughts typical feelings they call it love

Writing has always been my favorite way to pass time but words don't come so easily anymore after years of putting it aside.

Little fluff of hopefulness and wistful dreaming, where have you been all these years? I'm running low on unfounded confidence and crazy wishful thinking which got me through my childhood days.

Now I'm mostly- lazy days on bed and barely enough imagination to get me through a boring day. Piling up on caffeine hoping it will wake the inner child in me but I just end up reliving all my worst days, trying to shake off the jitters.

The 'trying' takes too long, met enough people telling me it's the part that matters most.

Me - Rembering, avoiding, memorising your little habits. The way your eyes widened in panic in front of my awkwardly executed playful side eye. I become over ambitious when you're around, I always forget I lack the basic skills to come across as the mischievous person I want to be in your eyes.

Us - Linking arms, holding hands. Tugging at the small zip chain of your bag. "You're annoying" but I hope you annoy me more, I hope there never comes a day when we become so distant we pick at our words, scared even the smallest mistakes will make scars we can't fix and there will be no next time to talk it out 'cause we never talk anymore.

Have we met before? You smell oddly familiar, like a cup of warm tea and the sunlight on your face makes me want to lean in for a hug.

I like you a little. A little because i'm not sure if i'm allowed to like you a lot.

We're standing around in groups but it feels like there's only you and me. You recall small things about me and my heart does a little flip because you took the time to notice those things and it flops just as quick thinking you must be that type of person; too nice to let anything pass by, too kind to not make friends with everyone.

I play along when she has a joke in mind, she doesn't know her eyes are giving it all away. The way her lips curl up and the way her nose crinkles, the way her voice carries her intent- light and full of laughter. She doesn't know i've spent years learning her and can read her through and through.

It's just that even a glance from you gets my mind clouded, as foggy as the scene outside the window today.

That's why I fumbled when you appeared out of nowhere and greeted me with a wave. I laughed and replied, "I'm doing good. Thank goodness the weather's pleasant today."

The dream that happens before you fall asleep after wrapping yourself up in a cozy ball of blanket or after waking up in the morning before you leave your bed to face the world.

The dream that happens in a classroom while staring blankly at the board in front, your eyes not taking in even a single word or when you're listening to a song and you repeat it three times because you keep missing your favorite part.

The dream that starts off as a thought which starts building its own plot as you drift off farther and farther, the comfort of going to that special place where you've narrated a thousand scenarios with no audience, it's your own and yet it's not purely by you. The familiarity of a place that surprises you with the thoughts you didn't even realize you were capable of forming.