Up in a bubble

Two people getting together and falling in love is a beautiful thing. You see that happiness in their eyes and in their smiles. You see the affection in every word, a hint of a blush from a text /mail. They just want to keep their new-found love a secret and at the same time they wish to tell everyone about it. They are oblivious to the world around, and much more aware of each other. They float in their own bubble, some feet above the rest of us. They dissolve into a world of their own, a different world of music and laughter and fun and touching and kissing and caressing. Their conversations are now all about  the other, the sparkle in her eye, his mischievous dimples, their unspoken understanding, the little romantic gestures, the perfection of a moment.

You may be talking to them and they could be nodding back, but their eyes unfocus and you can’t be sure if they’re listening, or if their thoughts have wandered back into his arms. You try and make plans with them, and they are reluctant. Because you know, “He just loves this band, he’s a big fan” and “You don’t mind if she goes with us, do you?” “Of course not. The more the merrier. It’ll be fun!”, you say brightly.

And you tag along like a third wheel. It’s not uncomfortable at all, not even when each time you wish to say something to your friend and snicker like old times, he sticks his head right around and stares stone-faced as you laugh holding your stomach. Then you haultingly explain the joke, but since he’s so new to the slang you and your friends use, he doesn’t get it, and the laughter subsides. It’s not uncomfortable, even when you want to hug your friend, but he’s brought his new girlfriend along, and you don’t know really know her and you don’t want to make things more awkward than they already are.

They’ll ask you questions, such as “What about you, are you seeing someone?” And you shrug it off saying something like, “Naah, I guess it’s just not for me, the whole dating game. Not now, anyways.” And they nod understandingly at this insight they’ve gotten into your struggle with relationships. Then they are back into their snug little bubble of two, just him and her. And you watch them from the outside, truly happy for them but your feet firmly touching the ground.

It’s a beautiful thing, falling in love. There’s no shame in being in love, and there’s no denying that one can’t really stay away from it, no matter how badly it tore you apart. You may fuck around all you want, and say things like, “I don’t give a shit about him”, and “I’m just fucking her, I’m not in love”. You try with all your might to run from love and the tangle of emotions that is now just too hard for you to overcome once again. You mock the bubble, but you’ve been on the inside once or twice and you know how blissfully the bubble wraps around you, above the staring and mocking eyes of people, and teaches you not to care. And your feet suddenly get the urge to be lifted, lost in just one other pair of staring eyes.

Don’t go too far

No, I don’t want him to be mine
But he goes and falls in love
As often as he does, which is often
And then I wish that he was mine

So I act all tough and indifferent
Till he realizes it’s me he wants
But there’s no way we’d say all this
Coz no, I don’t want him to be mine

If I did, one day I’d be distant
And there’d be no way to come back
So we just go on living this way
Hoping the other doesn’t go far

Fading footprints

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I know you thought of me,
Once you realized I was free
But now I leave it all behind
You, her and the world that disagrees

Watch me walk out of here
Without ever turning back
I exit this space you inhibit
With my memories and mind intact

I etch footprints in my wake
Leading further and fading away
But footprints are not like ink on paper
The tides will turn the very next day…

The Girl Who Listens

As far back as my memory goes, I’ve always been ‘The Girl Who Listens’.

I was a silent child, too much into books and puzzles to stop and learn some valuable practical lessons regarding the ‘world’ (which, back then simply meant ‘school’). I was nice and sweet, and never got in anyone’s way, so I made friends easily. I was the girl people told their secrets to.

At 15, I suddenly grew up from a sweet, quiet kid to a girl who had discovered that she could think. I began to actually talk to communicate stuff, and I liked it. I made new friends who liked me for the way I was, and I was happy. I was even friends with some boys from my class!

One day, this cute guy started a conversation with me outside our class. We were both favorites of our Math professor (yes, I was a nerd!) and we spoke a little of this, a little of that. Soon the conversations turned to late night chats. He was bright, intelligent, and the more I thought about it, he was just the kind of guy I would love to like.

And then he finally mustered up his courage, and told me… that he’d been crushing on my best friend for weeks, and could I please find out if she liked him too? I was the girl who the guys approached, to tell me about their crush on one of my girlfriends.

It turned out, she did like him, only to break his heart soon after. And once again, still uncomplaining, I gave him my ear, and also my heart. It did not take him long to notice my tear-stained shoulder and to catch my unbroken heart. And as all teenage loves go, many painful years later, I realized only too late how much of a rebound I was for him.

I’ve now successfully ended things with him – and emerged with my head above the water. I’m older and wiser in experience. I’ve even been approached by guys for myself, to ask me out. I’ve had relationships that did not begin with a shoulder to cry on.

Just yesterday a close friend confided in me that she wants to break up with her boyfriend of many years. Soon after she ended things with him, I got a phone call from her boyfriend, asking me to talk to her and to try and convince her to give him another chance. I realize I’m still the girl who listens to everyone. But now I see it as a good thing. This tells me that I connect well with people. It makes me happy, knowing that my friends are comfortable with talking about their feelings with me, and that they know I’m here for them and that they can trust me.

First loves

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A look and a smile from afar
Awakens flutters in the heart
A spring in each step, dancing on the stars
First pangs of love that blossom at the start

Time wrapped under a wide blanket smile –
dizzy from spells of new romance
Walks on the shore, dreams of the aisle
A fairy tale love flowing from a glance

Oh, young love can drown out the crowd
Turn a blind eye and deaf ear for passion
Stubborn love, looking for signs among clouds,
lost in new-found freedom of expression

Tender heart cocooned in youth, unbroken
Pangs of first true love – never forgotten

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Today at dVerse, Tony sets us to write sonnets – the task is to get the meter and rhyme right. I’ve barely managed to link up before it expires. I don’t think I do a very good job with rhyme and sonnets -it wearies me! So I welcome you constructive criticism and any comments on the form. I would really appreciate it! 🙂

A feeling of love… again

It was not the universe in play, straying signs in her path regarding true love and soul mates. It was the flippant nature residing in her that made these decisions, Marisa was convinced of it. The spontaneous, impulsive side that everyone saw, and which she could not bear to change. She could count the boulevards that had led her to nowhere. The one that had gotten away, the one who had married her best friend, the one who let her go believing she loved someone else. The one who paid her no heed, the one who taught her lust without love, and the one who had given her his heart when she was too young to care.

She saw her friends who walked carefully through life, taking each decision after a great deal of thought, conservative to the core. They imagined themselves to have wrapped a security blanket all around their happiness, shielding it from irrationality, from life’s less pleasant surprises. As if being careful and calculated was going to save them from any kind of trouble that could befall them.

She scorned these cautious people. She took pride in her spontaneity, in her approach to life. She had always been the one to fall swiftly, fastest to succumb to gravity’s call. And also quick to lose interest or to perceive things going wrong, she thought bitterly. She was the fearless one, who could dare go up to a guy and ask him out not knowing if he was even interested in her. She was the one who took risks, the one who had never cared about putting up social appearances, and the one who was not afraid to be different.

Marisa did not belong to the kind of people who think that the universe came into being for the sake of love, and that love was the only feeling worth living or dying for. She was far too young to think or preach that way. Nor was she one of the girls who wait around for love to strike; but maybe that was because it always did strike sooner than she expected. Her intuitions about people and their feelings were almost always right, and they had helped her well in life. She however lacked somewhat in judge of character and compatibility, and this was where her impulse would override any rare, wayward, lingering doubts of rationality and give in to the attraction that they both felt or perceived.

She wanted to stop the pain that possessed her every time she believed her heart to be broken. She hated the fact that she was sensitive to things like fragile hearts and treasured memories. More than anything else, she very much hated herself soon after a heartbreak, for allowing her errant thoughts to lean in the direction of someone new. But she couldn’t help herself. Her spirits had always been maintained at an unusually higher level than most people, and they helped her burns to heal faster.

Was she only to understand love stumbling eternally and through healing the wounds and broken bones? When would the time come, when she would finally stop blaming the non-existent omens and signs telling her once again, ‘he is the one’?