Living between pages

This evening, I finished work a little early. I sat down, under a tree, on a bean bag that you sink into like your lover's arms. Watching some theory about Rhegar Targerean because what better thing to do after a day of trying to connect dots for people. I thought to myself, what a beautiful evening, and then it started drizzling. And then it started pouring and I tried to look for cover. More for the bean bag than for me. More for my loafers than for my feet. But it rained heavy, anyway. The bean bag, my loafers and my feet kept getting drenched. I tried to avoid it, scooching inch by inch until I hit a wall, You know, like you avoid the nosy relatives at a wedding? And in that corner, cold and drenched, planning on how to recover the shoes, I realized I miss you. I realized, this is what love is. The downpour of affection when I do not need it. The storm of awe. Appreciation. And gratitude, when I don't see it. I am farfetched analogies and over analysis. I'm interpretation and complexity. And it probably takes your overbearing love, to have me cornered and make me feel.

Reasons to go back home

They say you find comfort in your roots. They say it keeps you grounded. I'm far away from home or the people that I love. In all of this cloudedness, all I can do is run back to the memory that gives me comfort. Rocking back and forth blends the anxiety in my chest to the movement and I feel soothed. I have grown up with rocking chairs, cane swings and cradles. But the thing I miss most are warm arms and cozy chests to bury myself in. To rock me back and forth, gently, till the voices in my head go to sleep. #writingtocope #writer #writersofinstagram #writingbliss #anxiety #anxiouswriter #movement #swingset #breathein #breatheout