I thought I'm going to die today. No, I wasn't about to fall from the edge of a cliff, or a building. A car wasn't coming hurtling at me. Neither was I hurtling inside a car towards a truck. I was just doing my thing. And then, she walked in. After that, all I could hear was BOOM..... BOOM.... BOOM.... BOOM.... A mad rush of blood to the head with each heart bear. And boy have I not felt so overwhelmed in a long time.
I see her almost everyday. Well, almost. And there's little that remains for me to tell her, sparing a few explicit details. But not that I've left a lot to her imagination. But yet, there are a thousand things i could say, a thousand things I want to say, none of which make an ounce of sense to me. It's just ramblings inside my head, things I wish she could see for herself.
But all these rampant, helter-skelter thoughts, and any sort of brain activity seizes at the sight of her. So much so that all my senses can feel is my fragile little ticker exploding like a nuke in my chest.
No clue how it got this way. And how wishful thinking hopes that the stupid woman feels even a trickle of what you go through. That mad urge to look into the other's eyes for an eternal second. Those round eyes. Her wavy hair falling on cute, mouse-like face. The way she repeatedly jerks her face to move them away, how she keeps playing with her locks all day long, her incessant throat clearing. And all I hope is that she sees my check-mated condition. That I am helpless, completely unguarded, decapitated by her sight, or merely her presence.
But then, ego comes in the way. My ego. And then I set out to justify my balls. What a futile exercise. Beside, in the process, I put myself in a worse position than before, trapping myself more, more, and even more in a place from where, recovery almost sounds impossible.
Now, I can' t even shamelessly gawp at her. I fear. And so, I hate myself. What if she's given her heart away? Can't I get back the last few months? To fix my stupidities, my follies, and all that makes me feel like a complete bum. Get hold of a free slate somehow?
Another voice shouts on top of its lungs, chuck it! Keep moving. But stubborn is the foolish mind. Overtly optimistic.about things that may have little prospects, or maybe some. Maybe.
An arm's stretch away feels like a light year for now.
Then I realize, there's no point of me losing my peace of mind, as my worrying, or not worrying isn't going to change the situation. Well, that's true for everything in life, isn't it? But for now, that mad heartbeat is definitely an experience I wouldn't mind dying to feel once again.
I see her almost everyday. Well, almost. And there's little that remains for me to tell her, sparing a few explicit details. But not that I've left a lot to her imagination. But yet, there are a thousand things i could say, a thousand things I want to say, none of which make an ounce of sense to me. It's just ramblings inside my head, things I wish she could see for herself.
But all these rampant, helter-skelter thoughts, and any sort of brain activity seizes at the sight of her. So much so that all my senses can feel is my fragile little ticker exploding like a nuke in my chest.
No clue how it got this way. And how wishful thinking hopes that the stupid woman feels even a trickle of what you go through. That mad urge to look into the other's eyes for an eternal second. Those round eyes. Her wavy hair falling on cute, mouse-like face. The way she repeatedly jerks her face to move them away, how she keeps playing with her locks all day long, her incessant throat clearing. And all I hope is that she sees my check-mated condition. That I am helpless, completely unguarded, decapitated by her sight, or merely her presence.
But then, ego comes in the way. My ego. And then I set out to justify my balls. What a futile exercise. Beside, in the process, I put myself in a worse position than before, trapping myself more, more, and even more in a place from where, recovery almost sounds impossible.
Now, I can' t even shamelessly gawp at her. I fear. And so, I hate myself. What if she's given her heart away? Can't I get back the last few months? To fix my stupidities, my follies, and all that makes me feel like a complete bum. Get hold of a free slate somehow?
Another voice shouts on top of its lungs, chuck it! Keep moving. But stubborn is the foolish mind. Overtly optimistic.about things that may have little prospects, or maybe some. Maybe.
An arm's stretch away feels like a light year for now.
Then I realize, there's no point of me losing my peace of mind, as my worrying, or not worrying isn't going to change the situation. Well, that's true for everything in life, isn't it? But for now, that mad heartbeat is definitely an experience I wouldn't mind dying to feel once again.
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