When someone is talking and something funny casually slips out, you do not say "oh was that meant to be a joke? Did (insert name) tell a joke? Oh my god (insert name) is so funny!". No. They weren't trying to be funny but are obviously doing a much better job at it than you are so just let the dude have his moment of glory and shut your fucking trap.

And to you, I don't understand what I did wrong to you, neither do I know what this stemmed from or is linked to at all, but all I know is that you're stamping my existence into ashes right now in my face and well if you wanna do that then two can play in this game. 

Long Live

God knows why I suddenly decided to listen to that song tonight. A year back I couldn't grasp or even fathom its meaning and never thought I'd feel this way about it. 

But when I heard it again tonight, one year later, many closed doors later, the chord stuck home. At first it was blurry, like some sort of mist I can't grasp in my fingers. I know this song, but where have I heard it? Until that one line. The one line that summed up all my feelings and I never even knew.

"Long live all the mountains we moved, I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you."

A Little Fear

Had a bad day at the gym on Monday, it was pretty damn crowded so everyone was in a rush for the benches and racks, especially with Monday being the usual chest day. Tried unsuccessfully to do DB pressed with 25 kilos on each side, and my third and final try ended with losing control of my left hand dumbbell causing it to slam straight down. Thankfully my first reaction was to turn so it didn't slam right into my face, but instead it rammed down on my left cheekbone. Felt okay though so I went on as per normal, but today I've been having a persistent headache on the left side of my head and it hurts more when I look to my left, like there's some sort of minor swelling in my temple or something. I'm just hoping that it's due to tension or a bad pillow and not directly related to the blow to my cheek the other day, which would possibly mean this is some internal bleeding.

Now that I think about it, tension might be a likely cause too. Recently, this week especially, I've been having frequent chest pains again which now I think is related to tension or stress. And considering the piling workload and my stress over that girl, no surprise about the tension there. Just hope my body reconciles all it's problems soon..and that I won't end up unconscious on the floor of the bus anytime soon.

All I Want

All I want right now is to lie here under these loose sheets, holding her in my arms as she nuzzles warmly in my chest. And I'll caress a few strands of hair from her forehead and stroke her hair, the nape of her neck, the gentle curvature of her back, and just get to know her, memorise her. And I'll breathe in her scent as I curl up around her and drift away.

Just Second Guessing

It's strange and funny how after over a year of knowing each other, you can be back to a foot in square one again. One foot in newborn moments, another miles ahead. Half your mind in dizzying nervousness, the other in comfortable bliss. Looking down this familiar face but in a new light, friendly grazes of the hand turn electric once more. 

You know those books we used to read as children where they talk about how it is important to never give up on something because good things come to people who are persistent? And how we all grew up way too fast and found out that we had all been too naive and that sometimes life just deals us a hard hand to play and it's our role as people to suck it up and deal with it. That's true in many ways. But I guess as we grow up, life grants us many new experiences, and these experiences might open our eyes to the possibilities and dimensions in this world. Sometimes, life deals us an aceless hand. Sometimes, persistence can actually pay off. And other times, the girl who rejected you almost a year ago might end up falling for you after all.

And now I'm smiling like an idiot wherever I'm going and I don't care what anyone else has to say about it.

Scales and Balance

In all honesty, I'm really confused right now. Muddled up in my head. Something drastic must have happened back then. Some big crash and a pounding concussion, drove me to become this way. I can't exactly place a finger on when or why, I suddenly became afraid to commit. Have I enjoyed my freedom that much? Or was it a breach of trust? Or do I have to see you (after so long) to be sure I wanna go through with this? Because I think you're a wonderful girl, and I understand that loving someone is when you're at your most vulnerable, so I really don't want to play you for granted; especially after Italy, I'd really have to earn back my own trust in order to let me give myself to someone else. You're a really incredible girl, and who knew this would happen? Take things one step at a time with me, maybe?

Venice

Venice 

So it's true that they say Venice is an island you have to get lost in. Getting lost in this island might be the best decision of your life. Waterway veins with light smatters of cafés, churches, and wells, it's skin is tattooed with backstreet alleys that probably have felt less footsteps than the number of bricks it's made of. Walking down the raw stone pavements, you'd come across little bridges once in a while to allow you to cross over the canals. There are painters, artists bent over plastic palettes of watercolours, perched on small wooden stools, gently caressing the surface of the canvas with hushed tones of greens and blues. Once in a while, a strong ochre voice resonates from within the cracked walls of buildings. You can't tell which one, the canal splits into nooks and crannies in the corners of the buildings forming crooked smiles between the weathered old bricks. That is the song of the passing gondoliers, bundles of tireless muscle woven with stitches of symphonies, brute men who sing the hymn of the streets as if it were their own orchestra. They stand proudly atop their gondolas, glorious black birds they are. Together they give guided tours to people like myself, whistling through dirty canals, talons slicing through the frothing seabed. 

You peel your eyes from the picturesque charm of the canals and tune your attention instead to the brick and stone streets ahead. Like the canals, the streets branch out into smaller alleys, and these in themselves hold a certain dreamlike quality to them. Even at the foot of the alley, there is no mistaking the stale scent of damp laundry and the parchment of lichen carpeting the walls behind them. It is like walking under a magnificent parade, the shrill whistles of wind filling gaps between the bricks, the excited chattering of overgrown vines with their jittery leaves, the grand bellowing of kaleidoscopic clothes and flags beaten by the wind in perfect synchrony to the rhythm of your footsteps. The celebration finally spills into an open plaza. It is dreamy and light, almost hazy, and is encrusted with cosy cafés and souvenir shops selling keychains and masks. The people here appear to have absorbed the atmospheric quality of the plaza, slowed down to a hypnotic lull, seamlessly blending into the scenic backdrop like clockwork puppets in a still photograph. The air is tainted with wafts of milk and espresso and chimes of clinking ceramic punctuate every few moments as baristas serve sandwiches and bagels.