When I was a kid, I wanted to own a pet no one thought was cute. Ugly even. Or maybe one with three legs. I wanted to bring it home and love it, more so because I was sure no one else would.

It's a vile thought now. To think that I was doing it only to stroke my ego. So pathetic.

I think that sometimes it translates into my choice of men.

Mumbling #24

I think of the number of hours I pick to spend doing something and the same hours someone else takes to do the things they love and how they are different from each other but then not so much. Although the two of us are choosing to understand life in our own ways, our compelling purpose is the same.  We want to achieve what we think is the best way to live life. We're all learning so many different things but then we're also learning the same thing. And now and then when we're putting a finger on that same thing while swirling drinks in our glasses during conversations or when we're just sitting together, around a bonfire on a star-studded night, we're coming closer to understanding life. 

Jaan has been trying to cross the road for some time now. The other side looks like roses and beckons her with promises of a happy life that she will get to share with more people like herself. 

One candle lit for your beautiful spirit.
Another for the faith we have put in you.
One more in the hope that you will not disappoint us.
Last to complete the row.

I was writing you a love ballad
But then
Four sets of hands (or were there five?)
Grabbed me by the throat
Shouting for their share

Adulthood

Walking down the street, she doesn’t realise that she has a hint of mustard on her cheek. Or that pieces of her hair are attempting to kiss the sky this morning. 

Love is large and looming and these are matters of little importance.

Back in her single room flat, when love breathes in her neck and slides in her mouth, her eyes dart to the crack on the wall.

And she is reminded that the (now) insignificant will seep, ooze and dribble hot on her cheek instead, unless she pays attention to it. 

The sea is silent
To hear my sighs,
A few gasps,
And a rising disappointment.