#ehehehee

I'm laughing with my friends, usually. The summer days are so hot and we all complain about it together. I goof off in some stupid way, and they all giggle or make a face.

I'm crying in my mother's lap, asking her why I was born. And she's frantic, telling me I'm her star. I'm a star, and that makes me happy. I laugh through my tears, looking up at my brilliant mother, and I see her. I really see her. And I ask her things, and she replies so genuinely, her gaze somewhere else. Somewhere she'd rather be. But she finds this equally as beautiful, so it's okay.

I'm not talking with my dad, even though I wish too, he's worse than ever now. He's lonely, and I wish I could fly over the seas to go give him a hug. I don't really see my father in him. I see a child, I see my grandma's child who never really moved on. He still wants his mumma, I can see it. He's both in the present and the past, leaping quatum leaps, one jump at a time. I'm proud of him, and I hope he's proud of me. I understand him more everyday. I forgive him and I will not be like him, I will learn, as he's learnt now. I hope he knows his mother is in him, not me. Because we see what we are. He is her before himself. Becaude a mother is always there, in you. He is my dad, and I'm so happy I'm like him. I'm so grateful everyday, and I want him here. I want to be 3 years old, with him cradling me.

I am a child with my brother, I'm running and I don't think about the scorching heat that's definitely going to tan my skin. I don't mind, when I'm a child. We ask for ice cream at our local shop, and we ponder awhile for which one we want. Chocolate. The only flavour ever. And we don't pay, and we run out. The uncle who's spent his entire life in nothingness, writes our check down for another day. We're racing to go home. With him, I am free and I am fine because I am a child. I'm not 16 anymore, but 6.

With Nav, I am...so much. I am happy and angry and sad and excited for life. She is my sister. Just not my blood. But my sister. She is beautiful, her soul tremendously excites me, she is so pure in my eyes, and I look at her and I see so much. And she will get out of her conservative family and she will be great. But right now, she screams and she gets angry, but she laughs at the stupidest things I do, and she remembers them for days and years to come. She never forgets, both her greatest and worst quality. I see her, beyond what everyone else sees, I see her mind and her soul and skin and all of it, to me, is inhumanely beautiful. To me, she is an angel. I'm impossibly lucky to have her in my life.

My Margie, My Ahvi, My Reet, is my lifeline. She is, perhaps, the only I've ever fallen in love with. I clearly have a type. I love those I can never have. And I like those who seem reachable. She was never reachable. She was the sun before it shone, a beam of light— never caught, a bell before it was wrung, a happening that never happened. I have no idea why I feel so much for her. But then again, she is a jasmine flower, she doesn't quite see herself the way I do. Nor love herself the way I do. But she, is the only. Really. The only galaxy, the only star, the only flower. She is it. She is, as I would say and regret, my god. I worship her, and adore her. I will repent for it, as the people say. It is animalistic, my greed for her. My need for her. She is everything that can never happen. She is my jasmine, my Ahvi, my Margie and my Reet. And her name itself, helps me breath.

Nivriti, is my happy place. In the way that I'm back in 8th grade with her, when I was siller and more alive. She is someone I'd like to tuck away safely, in my suitcase and take her to see the world with me. I love her smile and her laugh, my heart blooms with her. And we talk too much. She is the colour purple, vivid and wise.

My sir, who teaches me maths. He was a father figure, a safe place, a place where I found so much. I'm infatuated, not with him, don't worry. But with his life, so content and peaceful and suddenly I can't breath. There's no mansion, no greed. But love and the daily practice of gurbani, and his wife is happy. He is happy. Their home is happy. Sometimes, in the evenings, when I used to stay late, I went inside their home, and they taught me love. After my parents, they taught me how love can grow. It's a second home. And I am grateful to know such people.

For now, these are the people I will write about. I will about more because I have love for so many people. But for now, they seem adequate, to put my life in a showcase. A tiny little safe box, that has a door of infinite possibilities.

Because right now, we are infinite.

meanwhile: