White noise

Play that white noise,
Let it trap the residual sounds of my thoughts
Let it dampen the echoes
That persist to be reflected.

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Dream 14.05.16

A ghost from the past reappeared

in my dream, last night.

He stayed with me until I was secure,

that his presence is absolute.

Then he faded away,

the same way he drifted off in reality,

and all the insecurities I locked away

screamed at my face.

My brother and Jehan were there,

one in each side,

neutralising my state.

Then a scene of a lecture hall took place,

and I was sitting right at the back with them,

and a faceless man sits right beside me,

a familiar gut feeling,

an unfamiliar touch as his legs brushes against mine;

his words were soothing,

his laugh was begging for mine to form.

He knew of the earlier incident.

He came to rescue my wrecked self.

I’ve met this guy in real life,

but where?

Who is the person my subconscious sought refugee in?

Why did I not look at his face

and ignored his presence?

Why did the fear of losing another loved one crawl onto my heart,

leaving me but sheer curiosity,

when I woke up to a pale ceiling.

 

1+?=1

I don’t think I understand love

the way I should.

I mean,

I understand the whole passionate feeling;

been there, done that,

but I’m mostly talking about

how love can get out of control,

out of your control;

doing reckless things unintentionally,

then realising how shameless you may look,

spilling words that leave you embarrassed and heated up,

hiding more important words,

words that need to be said, but you’re too conscious of the situation.

Okay, I guess I do understand the main concepts.

Concepts driven by the heart, solely.

But it’s been a long time since I’ve experienced that,

an experience that changed the way I see love,

changed the way I act when it comes to such feelings.

All because I’ve made a promise to myself;

I promised I’d never love again without consulting my brain,

that I’d never trust my heart because it can be easily deceived.

That if I suspected love has come for me again,

then I’d think hard if it was love for the person

or respect

or love for the idea of having someone there

or boredom.

And if it was love, then I’d confess.

If it’s not mutual, then accept friendship – assuming the other party still wants to be friends –

If it’s not mutual and they slip away, then so be it.

If they reconnect, then connect back.

Love has become a logical equation,

with remnants of intense hidden feelings of disappointment, relief, satisfaction, and ongoing attachment.