A modern tale''Open yourself up to me'', she demanded, twisting her body on the couch so her eager eyes were looking directly into mine.
What does she mean by that? I thought, trying to understand the eruption of her smile and the reason why she'd made our hands intertwine. ''Like take my clothes off?'', I asked, throwing in a nervous laugh at the end. The second I had mentioned the word 'clothes', she released a sigh and sat fully back against the couch. She looked at me whilst biting her lip. ''Is that all you think of me? That I just want value and want your body?'' ''Of course not'', I replied. But I was sure it was one thing she wanted, at another time. 'We all have a body'', she said, tracing her finger up her arm. 'But I don't fall in love with stomachs, thighs or faces. I fall in love with what's inside someone. Their heart and mannerisms, their being or personality.'' ''Oh right'', I replied. ''Now I get it.'' There was a pause. Her expression intensified. ''But my heart isn't exciting. It can't give you much, as much as my other parts can'', I said, giving her a nudge. She looked worried, for sure. ''You don't understand me at all'', she said, raising her eyebrows. ''You never want to show me you care through anything other than your physicality. I don't want you to touch me when we get into bed late at night. I want to listen to what your mind is most occupied by. I want to hear what you haven't told anyone before and feel embraced by your intelligence and creativity . But you can't give me that. You've never been able to look at the world philosophically'''. 'None of that is fun though, I thought. ''Who do you think you're going to be with?'', I asked. ''Fricking Aristotle?'' ''No'', she muttered quietly. ''But definitely not with you either'.' My 1st love3650 days. That's how long I knew her. That's how long she was my next door neighbour.
I first bumped into her when I was six in the local shop where she was shopping with her mam and I had chocolate sauce spread around my mouth. She laughed at me as she walked by and I was sure that she was the sun at the exact moment of time, radiating and leaving a bright mark on my life. The next day when I was running to football practice, I saw her sitting in the front room beside the TV. I waved and she smiled because she know I had eaten my ice-cream carefully this time. After those brief encounters, she was mine. My best friend. All my childhood memories consist of us; playing chasing, seeing who could go higher up on the swings and making daisy chains. She would giggle and cheer at my jokes so much that I was sure I'd be a comedian when I grew up until I realised no one found them funny but her. That one night, in school, when it was the opening ceremony for the play Grease, she wore the prettiest pinkest frock in all the lands while I wore a shirt my mother had bought in Debenhams. I had never seen her like that, so joyous, so enchanting or maybe she was but I can't remember. I took her hand and we ran together to the park, to see now at age sixteen who could reach the stars quicker on the swings. That night was short, but we needed the longest one in the world. And somehow we had stayed in a hugging position till dawn and till she has to pack her things and emigrate. The lost generation |
There's nothing I like more than smiles, and blissful laughter that awakens the whole world like a storm. Music, dance floors and romantic couples who can't take their hands off each other. These are the things that make this Earth worth living in, in my opinion and that make my soul flare. But this... this overwhelming lie that teenagers are experiencing often isn't what my heart cherishes.
It happens to me regularly. Whenever I'm at a party or a celebratory event, I always take myself away from that particular moment and see, feel and actually hear what is surrounding me. Sometimes we lose ourselves in time, we overlook everything and just focus on ourselves. We think about our appearance, if our stomachs are empty or if the song being played is right thus, barely noticing what's going on. Nonetheless I do. I see it when no one else does or wants to and then I'm asked by an observer if I am okay. But by that time something has changed because what once I had enjoyed has now turned sour, due to my own lavish thoughts.
My feelings have altered along with the scent in the room especially the smell of spirits and underage drinking that is now attacking my nostrils.
I love when people are enjoying themselves. I live to see people in a good mood but I cannot tolerate something that acts as a medium for fake happiness.
Without this alcohol and the DJ, no one would be dancing at all. No one would have the confidence to get up off their seat and try to have fun. All in all, this realisation pains me. It eats at me.
In one corner, a dear friend of mine is doing things that I know she will regret and hate herself over when the next morning comes and she is sobered up. By looking at a stranger's shot, I can remember the boy who had to be escorted out by the bulky security guards.
And I don't know why I take these things so seriously, so personally as if these are my kids who are getting sick on the dance floor. But I feel empty. I feel as empty as that guys beer can.
These images consume me and they force me to think about religion and why it is advised to stay away from this kind of drink. And then all at once, I get it. I understand what I have been reading from the Qur'an.
As a teenager, there is pressure, experiences, fine lines and questions. And I wonder, looking at all these people why does it have to be like this?
It happens to me regularly. Whenever I'm at a party or a celebratory event, I always take myself away from that particular moment and see, feel and actually hear what is surrounding me. Sometimes we lose ourselves in time, we overlook everything and just focus on ourselves. We think about our appearance, if our stomachs are empty or if the song being played is right thus, barely noticing what's going on. Nonetheless I do. I see it when no one else does or wants to and then I'm asked by an observer if I am okay. But by that time something has changed because what once I had enjoyed has now turned sour, due to my own lavish thoughts.
My feelings have altered along with the scent in the room especially the smell of spirits and underage drinking that is now attacking my nostrils.
I love when people are enjoying themselves. I live to see people in a good mood but I cannot tolerate something that acts as a medium for fake happiness.
Without this alcohol and the DJ, no one would be dancing at all. No one would have the confidence to get up off their seat and try to have fun. All in all, this realisation pains me. It eats at me.
In one corner, a dear friend of mine is doing things that I know she will regret and hate herself over when the next morning comes and she is sobered up. By looking at a stranger's shot, I can remember the boy who had to be escorted out by the bulky security guards.
And I don't know why I take these things so seriously, so personally as if these are my kids who are getting sick on the dance floor. But I feel empty. I feel as empty as that guys beer can.
These images consume me and they force me to think about religion and why it is advised to stay away from this kind of drink. And then all at once, I get it. I understand what I have been reading from the Qur'an.
As a teenager, there is pressure, experiences, fine lines and questions. And I wonder, looking at all these people why does it have to be like this?
Me and you
''Oh why do you have to be so complicated?', he asked with his hand on his hip and an expression on his face that would make anyone think that he had given up. Given up loving her, seeking her face among the crowds, breathing in her scent whenever he could.
Who would be crazy enough to give up that?
'I'm not complicated', she replied, her distraught eyes following his footsteps around the room. 'But there are things... things that are stopping us...' She paused. 'Making it hard for us to be together!'
She turned her head the other way. She wanted to avoid the look that he had made. She didn't want to see his hands rise up in the air for a brief second as to tell her that she was mad. Mad for letting the other things influence her.
'If you love a person. If someone loves someone else the way I love you then everything else shouldn't matter. I know things aren't ideal. It isn't perfect. And I know you're sick of people trying to make 'non-perfection' a valid point for some arguments. But I also know that I haven't met anyone like you before. And heck, everyone's the same these days', he said, glancing through the blinds on the window.
'I'm not going to just let the scavengers eat at our remains', he said, now facing her fully. 'I'm going to fight back. I'm not going to leave or toss this to the corner and pretend that I have gotten over it in ten years time. I can't.... I just can't do that.'
His eyes were sorrowful but hers were gleaming, of course. Glistening with delight because of the words that he had produced.
'So what do you propose?', she gestured, looking up, her eyes unchanged, her mouth forming the ends of a smile.
'That we stay. Like this! Maybe we're the first to go through something like this but hell, who cares? We only get one shot on this planet. Only one time. Do you know what that means?'
He shook his head. 'Why do we have to be suspended by everyone else's thoughts? Why can't we live our own lives for once?'
Her head fell to the floor again. She knew that he was right. But she was just holding herself back, like every other thing in life.
by h.e skies
Who would be crazy enough to give up that?
'I'm not complicated', she replied, her distraught eyes following his footsteps around the room. 'But there are things... things that are stopping us...' She paused. 'Making it hard for us to be together!'
She turned her head the other way. She wanted to avoid the look that he had made. She didn't want to see his hands rise up in the air for a brief second as to tell her that she was mad. Mad for letting the other things influence her.
'If you love a person. If someone loves someone else the way I love you then everything else shouldn't matter. I know things aren't ideal. It isn't perfect. And I know you're sick of people trying to make 'non-perfection' a valid point for some arguments. But I also know that I haven't met anyone like you before. And heck, everyone's the same these days', he said, glancing through the blinds on the window.
'I'm not going to just let the scavengers eat at our remains', he said, now facing her fully. 'I'm going to fight back. I'm not going to leave or toss this to the corner and pretend that I have gotten over it in ten years time. I can't.... I just can't do that.'
His eyes were sorrowful but hers were gleaming, of course. Glistening with delight because of the words that he had produced.
'So what do you propose?', she gestured, looking up, her eyes unchanged, her mouth forming the ends of a smile.
'That we stay. Like this! Maybe we're the first to go through something like this but hell, who cares? We only get one shot on this planet. Only one time. Do you know what that means?'
He shook his head. 'Why do we have to be suspended by everyone else's thoughts? Why can't we live our own lives for once?'
Her head fell to the floor again. She knew that he was right. But she was just holding herself back, like every other thing in life.
by h.e skies