I have been scared. Mortified, even. Scared of losing. But what is scarier than losing is the realization that I am scared of losing what I never had. Hopelessly mistaking reveries for memories, I have been strangely swindling with the present.
Last afternoon, I spoke to my plants while watering them. I spoke in gibberish terms of endearment, garbled with fear that someone may hear me. Now I know why people keep pets, everybody is scared. Scared of losing. Losing to Eleanor Rigby.
They are also scared of saying what they mean sometimes, more so than what they don't.
Pinching pockets of love, making myself richer in boiling non-disclosure, I have come a long way. Shy to make eye contact with who I was, eons before I delved in to "serious" relationships of any kind, I feel truly blue.
This post is incomplete, unfinished.
Last afternoon, I spoke to my plants while watering them. I spoke in gibberish terms of endearment, garbled with fear that someone may hear me. Now I know why people keep pets, everybody is scared. Scared of losing. Losing to Eleanor Rigby.
They are also scared of saying what they mean sometimes, more so than what they don't.
Pinching pockets of love, making myself richer in boiling non-disclosure, I have come a long way. Shy to make eye contact with who I was, eons before I delved in to "serious" relationships of any kind, I feel truly blue.
This post is incomplete, unfinished.
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