Just a few months ago, I was whispering 'I miss you' without knowing who 'you' is exactly. There was an indefinite hollow at a small part of my chest. Although it was not affecting life in any way, it was definitely irritating; like an itchy scab waiting to heal.
I spent a lot of time redefining my relationship with God, with my mum, my brother, the first few friends whom knew me as I start my life in KL, the girls of my blood and bones, and the men that sees more of me than a cute flirt with bouncing jugs.
I was content with life. I knew something was missing, but I didn't have ways to search for it, and I refuse to relent into desperation. So I was content.
And today, I have a face to that 'you'.
He come in ways that I both dreamed of, and would never imagined. His hands are so big that they envelop my neck completely, but they are warm against my skin- constantly keeping my seemingly small fingers firm and safe in his grip.
He's made of morning dewdrops, and late night stargaze when the only sweet things I could stomach were wondermilk cupcakes; and yet his eyes gleam with so much sincerity, I felt like the world just fade away behind me. Leaving but he and I, in a lost timezone of our own.
He's an ideal that I (and I believe many young others) one day wish to achieve; stability, freedom, and the independence to make a life decision. He's a dream for a girl, and a challenge for a woman- a constant reminder for me to push myself to achieve further and to achieve more.
He smelled of stolen puffs of cigarettes, made of nervous laughter of a young heart, and tasted of a longing of far too long. Lost, but never forgotten among the fabric of moments.
How could one be swept off their feet when one keeps on their toes?
I am made of strong women, those who believe that even when your head and your heart be a-flutter among the clouds, your feet must be firm on solid grounds. Women whom are constantly let down but never lost the beat of life to move forward- for themselves, and for those that matter.
I am made of careless laughter, seductive glances and tightly closed doors. An old vibrant book hidden among the rest; not really wanting to be found, knowing that I can never be absolutely lost as well. I was content.
But you, you
who makes the woods in a kitchen smells like freshly baked chocolate cookies, who makes the longue of a house warm and welcoming, who gallantly talks of travels and new worlds, screams unspoken adventures, who are made of soft glitters at night, and the last bit of rain on a cold night in.
who, despite all that, are able to stand beside me, and held me close; and stay here.
You made me fall in love.