With Or Without You

The one thing I keep coming back to is, no matter how great you are, no matter how right for me you are, you're not there for me.

The moon still looks pretty without you though. It still stays half-hidden behind clouds, looking like a drowning rasgulla. I still see rainbows in the country, and the stars are still never around in the city. Red is still a bright beautiful color, and blue still makes my skin look warm. Despite you not being there, puddles make me want to splash in them. And the sun makes me squint. Even when you're not here, I still love golas. And the way it numbs my lips and tongue. And the smell of old books, and warm squishy chairs, are still a source of contentment. The smell of my dog in the middle of the night, and the sound of her snoring, still puts me at peace with the world.

I still laugh till my tummy hurts. I still say stupid things, with no filter in my brain, I still love a good love story. And I still love life. I'll always be that happy person. But the reason I must go, I really really must, is because despite all of this.

When I cry, I cry alone.

Love and Other Maladies

"If you have to be a part of me, I'd rather you were my appendix. At least then I could survive without you"- Me 

Some people have this way of getting under your skin, and staying there. The littlest things about them, to do with them, will make you smile. You do stupid things, going completely against your true nature. You'll even contemplate taking a trip to a different state, one you don't even like, just to see them. You stay up nights, waiting for their calls. Every time something momentous happens, you'll want them to be the first to know. You curse them for not knowing how you feel, but are glad you can always count on them. Everything they do is just right. You compare people to them, and somehow they become the standard of all that's best in a person. You want to run on the beach, skip instead of walking, shout just because you can, and day dream about them while floating on your back in the river. You'll file away little anecdotes, just so that you're the one to make them laugh. You'll grin goofily for the next 24 hours when they say something nice to you. You act like an affection deprived puppy, all because of that one person. Who isn't even trying to make you feel this way. Who is probably not feeling the same way. Does that stop you from being like that? No, but you know you'd rather be foolish than not know this crazy, all consuming, inconvenient, irrevocable feeling.
As a wise and wonderful writer once told me, "Some loves are like that."