Conniption

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Source: pexels (sunsetoned)

You found me having conniptions on my way to the first date. Trying to trace small careful measured steps, speaking measured words and drinking measured wine because overdoing things is my specialty and I didn’t want to spread my talents on a sheet for you on the very first day. To be honest, I was hoping to meet someone from another planet because I didn’t want to see human beings anymore; aliens are friendlier, less malevolent and less predictable. I could predict this going into a dimly lit slightly swaying skyboard of adrenaline and then swooping back down into the abyss I called my home then. But I am not a seer (thankfully) and my predictions have a way of plateauing out. 

You kept a one-arm distance from me, even when the virus had not decreed a lockdown. The lines between love and respect and desire and similar sounding but dissimilar meaning words had long before blurred in my vision and my 7-dioptre spectacles didn’t tell me if I should feel unlovable or respected. Or both? I kept my distance too; distancing people is one of my linkedin skills. 

Also, I didn’t want you to see me hanging upside down from the monkey bars of my fate and counting sheep because I couldn’t sleep and conniptions accompanied me everywhere, lurking in the long sidewalks of my introspection, sneaking out whenever you dropped in certain words, feelings, songs, gestures. 

I wanted to prove my sanity so, I kept my demons locked when they played Damien Rice over our confused heads. I sipped a bunch of questions with my plum wine; it really seemed like we belonged there. Up on that roof humbled by the answers that stared us in the face. Tough unbreakable unchangeable replies. 

You still found me untouchable, your hands creating static on mine on the fourth date. You later told me that you were weighing the amount of stardust that might be created if our bodies somehow burst in a fit of stars and so, was afraid to start a fire. Well, the fire is blazing bright and I am glad you are an alien; I may not be damage-proof but you are.

You can gift me owls; they don’t belong everywhere and I am done with dogs and cats. I will gift you penguins; they belong right in the snow and don’t drown even if they dive hard.

3.14. You said you found me 3.14 times sweeter than the apple pie you just had and my heart started glowing a little. It’s still glowing as I wish you a birthday 3.14 times happier than all the previous ones combined.

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