Am I boring? Or am I too much fun to be with that you decided boring was better?
Am I funny? Or do you find me too sarcastic to believe everything I say?
Am I kind? Or am I too boastful of how much I love you, that you are embarrassed to walk with me?
Am I ugly? Or am I too pretty for you to handle other suitors who want to walk beside me?
Am I lesser than any woman? Or am I too perfect for you to keep me?
Am I judgmental? Or am I old school because I said I wouldn’t sleep with anybody other than how you told me?
Am I shy? Or do you think of me as too bold when I’m lying in front of you with my legs spread wide?
Am I unfaithful when compared to your faithfulness with that woman who’s bosom you’d pull?
Am I not the one, pray tell. Or am I the one who only was?
Your alarm doesn’t ring and you wake up late on the day you have to make your big presentation. You hurriedly bathe, dress and get out of the house. The cabs are on strike and the next bus you can jump onto is late. You quickly decide to grab a bite at the deli and miss the bus. The day hasn’t even begun and it already is the worst. You somehow manage to reach your office just in time and see that nobody’s there yet. You breathe a sigh of relief. This is how it feels.
You are walking aimlessly on the street. It’s a Saturday morning and you have no plans for the weekend. You feel low. The birds are chirping. Your friends have headed to the outskirts for the weekend. You only think of how you never manage to go anywhere and are burdened with ‘yeah, but…’. As if by magic, you sense it. A whiff. That familiar perfume. You miss it but you feel at home. This is how it feels.
You are packing to leave and return home. The holiday was relaxing. Your bag is ready and so are you. Your cab is waiting for you in the lobby and all you can think of is that neck-piece you lost on this trip. It was your most priced possession; something you guarded with your life. You decide its time to move on and leave it behind. You step into the cab after placing your bag on the seat before you and reach into your pocket to check if you have some change. Your fingers feel the cold metal of the neck-piece. This is how it feels.
You enroll for a singing competition in school. The participants are seated together and are awaiting their turns. You sit there among them and concentrate hard on your song. You try to mute the others while they sing. They announce your name. Someone nudges you. You get up and walk nervously up the stage. Before you know it, your performance is done. You don’t know how you performed. An uproar. Your hearing comes back slowly. You hear the applause. Slowly it grows louder. You smile. This is how it feels.
It’s been a tiring day at work. The week has been tiring too. Just when you are about to leave, there is urgent work thrown at you. You tell yourself to keep your cool. You begin to unpack. You restart your computer and log in to your email. You have a new email. It reads, “Hi Amy, I know you’re busy with work and that we couldn’t make time for each other but, I want you to know that you can always come back home. Love always.” Everything seems better now. This is how it feels.
This post is my interpretation of an article I read on thoughtcatalog.com a year back. My post is more like an antithesis to what I read in the article.