At first I saw my future unraveling in my head,
I imagined spending an infinity with him,
From the day our heartstrings were plucked,
to the secrecy of our smiles on our wedding day.

But the image started to zoom and him became You instead,
and brightly glowed-incandescently joyous I am,
I never knew the depth of love I held for You,
till I saw Your face in my past, present and future dreams.

Six surprisingly short months were the only moments of her life that mattered to her- that ever existed in her memory, that she would never erase, or could, even if she begged herself to. They were rather the moments that defined her life and made her realise what living really meant. Oscar Wilde once said, ‘Most people exist, but they do not live’, and to admit that she understood it was an in-between thing, because she understood the concept of it, but did not walk in the concept of the phrase until Iskandar came along. And made her walk for those six defining months that changed her entire biological being.
Iskandar had the cards in his hands but he was shaken by his demons- the self indulging thoughts that crept up to him incessantly ever since his heart was broken by the one person he trusted not to, and he tried to pick himself up but never could because he had these walls built in his head to shield himself from anymore granules of pain. But she saw that those walls were in fact not the usual walls that consisted of bricks, they were mirrors that reflected images of his past and his innermost thoughts- and she saw that through him, yet did not ever tell. He admitted to her that he felt unworthy of ever being truly loved by anyone, given his completely monstrous past, and he told her to run away from him while she still could because she was not binded to him at all, but she stayed. She was deeply fascinated and intrigued by his past, and oddly enough, found them beautiful as it became the reason why she was pulled in.
And they wondered what she saw in him, because those who had seen her, thought of her as being extremely easy on the eyes, but the ones that knew her, inside and out, thought she was beautiful. They did not understand, and could never see what she saw through her eyes- where others saw a disfigured image, she thought of it as being incandescently pristine. They knew not why, and kept wondering over and over, why a girl who has spent her entire life dodging men, in spite of having many lined up fighting for her heart, would fall in love with a man who is not any bit better than the rest? He had insecurities, countless faults, made heaps of wrong turns in the past and a blurry future.
But yes, she loves him.
She is in love with him, unconditionally.
And she has finally understood why “Love is blind.”

At first there was that numbness, that ridiculously soul-******* coldness you tried your best not to be succumbed by but you failed, over and over, as you know and acknowledge that his absence was the most terrifying feeling you have ever known. Then came the moments of weakness, where you can’t find anything to rely on or a heart to crash into, to have that equity with what he did to you and you feel tempted to go on a hunt and find a victim that could lend their heart for a while, and let it be played. But you stopped, because you realise that doing so won’t make you feel any better, or any different than him.  Nobody, or maybe everybody- at one point in their lives- will know the cruelty of being awoken by your conscience in the middle of the night and having to face reality as it passes by like a child needing your attention. If this makes you alive, this thing called Pain, then, what sort of feeling makes you feel...dead?

Maybe at one point, I am dead. Maybe I hold the card to my resurrection.

Maybe I have the card in my back pocket and I can use it whenever I please.

Or maybe I’ve taken my box of matches instead....and lit the card on fire. And stayed. Dead.

Sometimes love comes too little, or it comes too late but does that make it any less true? You search for something your whole life, only to lose it once you finally had a grasp of it- it slipped right out of your fingertips. Why? Because you were wrong to “search” for it. You should have stayed there and let it locate you, or rather, stumble upon you. Like serendipity. Let destiny play its part.

But you know, the craziest thing is, I did. I stayed still and lived my life exactly the way I had been living because I knew that something like love can’t be forced- it will arrive at your doorstep when you are not even expecting it. I did not go about looking for love- no, because he appeared out of the blue and blurred every dimension, corner, crook and cranny of my 20/20 vision. He did not sweep me off my feet, the way I thought it would be when you fall in love, no- because when I was with him, I forgot that I had feet at all- I was not running, and it was not a walk in the park either. Being with him was more of a swim.

Why?

Because, sometimes I am swimming with sharks, and I feel as if they would sink their teeth in me anytime they choose to, the way my insecurities come and go- leaving me vulnerable and stripped, and alert. Like a flock of birds pecking their heads as they feed, insecurities would attack me the same way- a frenzy that I have no control over. At times I swam with mermaids- seemingly beautiful and ethereal- but once you get closer, they will try to drown you in as they unmask themselves and all you are left with is a question, “Will I survive?” and this is a lot like pretending to be fine, to tell yourself over and over that you will not drown, yet the pain inside, as everyone is all aware of, is way stronger than the fake smiles I plaster on each day as I vowed to stop being unhappy, but once he comes around, mer-figured, he looks promising and I would swim to him, thinking that his presence meant survival, but I would be wrong, again and again. Other times I swam in the azure Caribbean sea, believing this is paradise- filled with wondrous feelings and unimaginable liberation because the reason for all of this is in the water next to me, never letting go of my hand. The rest of the unidentified moments was like being a passenger in Titanic, believing that I was sailing on something that was “claimed” to be unsinkable, but as I blinked my eyes, I realised that I was cold, covered in ice and clinging onto a shattered piece of iceberg that was slowly melting with time in the middle of the silent but perilous ocean- with a whistle in hand, alone, and there were no signs of rescue teams to wait or look out for. That is what it felt like. Or feels like.

There was something about her- something unfathomable, that the naked eye would just look at and actually think that what they’re looking at is something well adored, but beneath those layers of well perfected facade, was a girl who buried her fears and insecurities on her own. The shovel was still in her hand, and her face was caked with the dirt she gathered from her lonesome journey as she told herself to be strong; to grow stronger with each passing day. What was it about her, that when you look at her, at first glance, all you could think of was, “She looks so heartbreaking,” and then you take another step closer and realised that she was just scared. She was terrified of what might come to her. So she distanced herself from the world and indulged in the numbness, the powerful swelling inside her that ruled majestically. How could her own body betray her? How could her own feelings betray her? Nothing else could be said to her to fix what was broken or to make her dig up her old scars because the key to all of that, she, had brilliantly swallowed.

She knew not to trust anyone, but along came this sparkly boy who looked promising- who seemed as if he fitted her like a swarm of bees in their nest. He was broken too, but she was the one who needed to be saved, away from him. She could not see it at first, because she was flooded with so much joy, that she forgot of her pain and for some time, it felt good to be iridescent. Then she remembered the tale of the Red riding hood, and ran, because the sweet boy, whom she pictured she would have spent the rest of her life with, turned into the monstrous wolf that her grandmother warned her about. She knew better now, she knew better than to talk to strangers, ever again.
And you wonder, when you look at her, “What is it about her that looks so heartbreaking?” and the answer came,

“It was that boy.”

To be - and to remain patient, when the merry-go-round that disguises itself as Life, as we acknowledge it, pulls us in every direction.

and at every angle the ride will be nauseating, exhausting and drifting...

But we shall perservere.

We shall, we shall.

So. You were saying. You think you're in love with me? What is that?

Is saying that equivalent to those three words?

Really, I don't know. But this, I know, with all my heart-
I know I am so falling for you too because I cant seem to find any other explanation for what I feel for you---aside from the inevitable truth, Love.

These days I question and unquestion myself, if that's even a word, and I ponder upon this and that and my mind lingers and I go crazy and my thoughts find their way back home to you.

That's how I know. How I am sure that I am irretrievably in love with you.

But baby... implying those three words is not enough, will never be. So say it because meaning it with all your heart is what counts.