Sup3rnality

Happy 27th birthday, my one and only... Words cannot express how much I love you. I'm thankful that you exist and that you are mine. There's no place I'd rather be but next to you.

I found an old notebook with carefully written transcripts of messages and notes he wrote me many years ago, before there was a you and me. They were written lovingly, cursive and fluid, like calm waters flowing gently out in blue ink onto paper. Beneath his words were tiny scribblings noting the date and time his carefully-thought out expressions of affection reached into my heart to take it captive - a reminder of when each momentary breath was lost. There was a time when those words filled me with hope that I was indeed a desirable enough girl - in all my awkwardness and questioning uncertainty. Even long after the expiry of that relationship, I held on to his words in hopes of finding them whispered to me again - by him, by anyone.
I read them all. I let myself smile at the memories.
Then I tore them up.
I've long ago forgotten the words he once said to me...drowned by your sweet whispers, teasing jibes, gentle rasps, your endless supply of words that can fill me a for a lifetime. Adamant. Reassuring. Comforting.
I wish I could write down all the words you say that sets my heart to a staccato beat. But baby, you say them so often I remember them by heart. And I believe I'll hear you whisper them to me for a lifetime to come.

Where are you when I need you?

My shaking hands ache to close around the steadyness of your wheel, to drive you around the twists and turns of my mind and visit the lonely roads of my heart.

I want to escape with you. Need to. My wanderlust a throbbing dull ache hammering against my chest seeking completion. My skin stretching to contain the person in me who longs to be free.

Take me where my feet will take you. A tired warrior and her silver steed. Let the endless tarmac take us further, even if it is my heart and mind I need running away from.

Let's just go til we run out of road.

Jealousy is a four-letter word.

How so? Common initial reactions to an incident/occurrence/occasion that invokes bouts of jealousy include damn, gosh, crap, sh*t, f*ck.

It is a many-lettered word too, and a hearty congratulations through grit teeth often accompany the litanies of swear words in one's head.

It doesn't make it insincere. Less sincere, maybe, but sincerity is there with the green-eyed monster poisoning the words with with its acid tongue.

F*ck. Sh*t. Damn......

Jealousy is a four-letter word.

And above all, it spells out E.N.V.Y.

Everyone, but NeVer You.

F*ck. Sh*t. Damn.

Have you heard of 8tracks?

It's hand-crafted radio - meaning a mix of songs chosen by a user.
It can be a compilation following a certain theme, genre or just a plain ol' mix of your favourite songs.

For my 4th anniversary with Asdil, this mix suited me really well: 

This one's for you, dear

You know that kind of book? I think you do. The kind we hear mixed reviews about. Some say it's good. Some say don't bother.

Your interest is piqued, and you know you need to read it for yourself to decide whether it really is worth the hype. The little voice in your head tells you that you shouldn't be part of a passing fad, and yet, another voice asks you "What if it isn't?".

So you search for it in bookstores, URL and IRL. Bookstores and Amazon. Under every possible category, you look for this coveted title. Everytime you think you've found it, it turns out it's a similar book but not what you were looking for. Or, it is a mere rip-off masquerading as the real deal.

Disappointment fills you. You wonder how others have found this book but somehow not you. Perhaps you should have latched onto the bandwagon when you first heard the whispers about it among friends? Perhaps now that it is so popular, it makes it all the more unattainable.

At this point, you either settle for a wannabe version of this book, just to get an idea of what the real one might be like, or, you forget it altogether, popping by bookshops every now and again hoping to catch a glimpse of what you would really prefer. Or, for some, you give up altogether.

But then you find it. I don't know, perhaps at the bookstore where it was waiting all along. But there are those who find it hidden in the nook of a hole-in-the-wall shop, or a second-hand book at the back of a car, or someone's forgotten copy left on the train. It could be anywhere. But when you find it, it's likely that you feel like meeting an old friend, like someone you've been waiting to meet, and yet never had the chance to until now.

The thing is with this book, the way some books are, you can't find the synopsis in the back. Nor within the sleeves. Not even in the preface. You don't know what it is about. All you know is that many people have good things to say about it. But every person is different. How do you know whether you will like it or hate it?

So, do you read it?

Perhaps you will dare to venture onto the first page, and maybe you won't.

Whether or not you regret it, that is up to interpretation.

Love...is like that book.

People talk about it all the time. From the moment you are old enough to have the stirrings of emotions for the opposite sex, you've heard the stories, how wonderful it is. But then some tell you it's all not worth your time, sometimes they say it's just a ploy to get into your pants.

And despite all the horror stories, the cliches, the glorified tales...you want it for yourself. An understandable decision with an almost impossible solution.

Now you have to look for it.

Sometimes you find it, and sometimes it finds you. But what you find can sometimes be what you need and want, or it could also sometimes spell heartbreak.

But when you do hold the promise of Love in your hands, the synopsis is not written on the back. You don't know what you're getting. Will you be happy at the very end, or will you be left crying? Sometimes you do cry along the way, but it doesn't mean it will end badly. Sometimes it'll be happy all the way through, and sometimes you won't. It's how you read it, how you live it.

Love and me, we've had our ups and downs.

Once someone found their book in me, or he only thought he did. Because I could not give love in return, not in the way he wanted at least. We have always been good friends, but I to me he was always just that, and could not see him as anything more. I closed his book for him.

And when I thought I found my book, and he his, in each other, we found that while we shared common themes, we never really complemented one another. And in the end, we ended up drifting apart until he found another book to read and left me to find mine.

He was the way some books are. Not a bad book, but not entirely easy to read either. And at the end, he was the moral of the story, a lesson to be learnt. And while it took me about many years to realise that, I never did hold it against him. 

And then I found a book. My Book. He was sitting in the backseat with me. He was sitting across the small metal table from me at the Karak highway McDonald's early one morning. He had his arms tentatively testing the waters, slowly wrapping around me underneath my brown jacket that covered us one cold morning while out with friends. And he gave me my first kiss.

Try as I could, I could not find the synopsis to our story. I was scared I would not find what I wanted. I was scared of just reading for the sake of having the book. I was afraid of being hurt yet again. I was afraid I would find happiness, then have it change to sadness instead. I was afraid of a good many things.

But I would never know what was in store unless I smoothened out the pages and read the story with my voice, tasted the words on my tongue. And so I read on. We read on.

This is our story. And I never want it to end.

Certain people tell me to get married fast because I'm getting older and I would not look pretty anymore in my wedding dress.

I've cried many times over such words. I've thrown things around out of frustration.

Me? The day I am married to Asdil will be the happiest day of my life. No matter when, no matter how long it takes, finally being with my soulmate is worth the wait.

And the way he makes me laugh, giggle, blush...will always make me young at heart, even if not by way of looks.