I was destroyed with your abusively shrewd traits and your desperate hands as both of them wanted to throw out my assumption of you as “false hope”. I know there are a lot of things I don’t know and a few things I am dying to know.

What I don’t know is whether if I am alone during those graceless nights or not. A mere stranger would say no, because lately I’ve been hearing breath that isn’t yours, curling up to my pillow that isn’t you, embracing my imagination and racing with my wildest thoughts, I choke on the idea of you.

But you don’t know that and I won’t tell you. Talking my feelings is an ability that I don’t share but I wish you did. A piece of mind and a lot of skin is overwhelming for me yet I want it. A new layer every time, I like the way you say things, the way you form your sentences maybe partly because of the parallelisms of our minds. The layers I would put up with myself and rest of the world was uncountable and identical to you, we both had pieces of puzzles to scramble and unscramble for obvious reasons.

But with you, I learned to let down my defenses, throw away my pretenses. I wanted to open up, to know myself, to know who I am when I am myself, and to know myself when I am with you. I tried to process the way we are at the back of my head, in front of my thoughts and on the top of my brain. “Must be gratitude” was the answer but gratitude was some fallow stuff I didn’t even care about. I wanted what any humans want from each other. I wanted presence, affection. Is it love though? Am I in love?   I roll my eyes over my thought and repeat, “I just like paying attention to my flings” Isn’t it same thing?  After all, the idea of attention is built on the base of love. I am confused.

A part of me remains scared though—scared of vulnerability, scared of commitment, scared of flings destined to end, scared of you seeing through me with your contagious, dual edged, open spaced smirks. You say a lot of things without actually speaking. 

Limbu is studying at Saraswati Multiple Campus, Thamel.