What Are The Chances?

People here want adrenaline, excitement, climbing mountains together, candlelight dinners, but I just want a boring routine, an every day with you.

Finally, I haul my bored self, get into a presentable avatar and set out. Sometimes to a plush restaurant, to a crowded marketplace, to an irascible relative’s birthday party or just for a walk. It’s been 27 years I tell you, that I have been expecting you to pass by me, or even bump into me.

Then, like a friendly neighbor, we would meet crossing shops and bus stops and you would complain about the traffic while I wave a comic bye to a child. Sometimes you’d be unable to borrow my patience; I will borrow your disdain for the ways of the world.

People here want adrenaline, excitement, climbing mountains together, candlelight dinners, but I just want a boring routine, an every day with you. We will make the atmosphere rich together with our talks or our quiet. Again and again we will fall for each other’s weaknesses.

Our struggles won’t end until we find each other, and now I am tired. With all that is left of me, I keep singing in the ears of winds, writing on tree barks, and pouring in the streams. Even for a moment, to experience the magic that tantalizes the skin in each other’s touch, it’s worth to suffer a lifetime, and I believe that. But the candles die in their own wax and their own ash stifles the embers.

Your absence has broken my pride, my illusion of self-sufficiency. See I have sheltered a storm in my heart; a heart, so tender, it used to mourn for strange flowers who lost their petals. I am surviving with the constant need, burrowing within, questioning every action of mine, and weighing it on the scales of -”What is the point of this”.

There is always a little chunk of hope but there are chances for it to turn into despair, like antiviruses turn into virus.

And then the possibility haunts that, if, you even exist?. Takes me closer to the edge of a deep valley, of nothingness. A whiff of air pushes me back, and I gather faith, that I will find a purpose in life.

Then, maybe, it is the ambition I am missing I think, a drive to achieve something. Which I have confused with you. I realize a loner like me, never needed anyone. Skies get cleared then, sun shines.

But often, this line between the purpose and you fades, when it rains, or night settles beside me like a homeless dog and my spine gives up standing upright, it wilts, God knows, during those times I miss you, like a broken dream misses reality and I am like a soulful symphony playing endlessly through evenings, unheard.

About the guest author

Clandestiny