An athletic diver jumps into the deep blue width of an ocean. A soundless splash and he streams through the ocean like a rocket, touching the blue earth at last. That’s exactly how it goes in me. That's how I feel when expectations are fulfilled.
Hunting letters written in good handwriting to a possible boyfriend that were never posted. Reading them aloud in my head, only to sound like a total ass. Now that’s love, dug out from the drawers.
Remembering a 10/10 in Maths that was only possible because I cheated. The little pleasures of seeing full marks, without my credit.
Praying for the night to end. Ma’s gone to get me a little baby toy, they said. Seeing a chinese-looking brother the next day. The joy of holding a real toy that can breathe.
Seeing a long-forgotten best friend on the road. Throwing about mean words in my head. Perhaps imagining a tight slap across her face. Relief.
Readily sharing my spirit. Going on and on about my wishes, dreams, fear, the future and even elaborate tales of eating breakfast, fairy tales and the rain. Ripping out my heart until it says, you’re done for the night.
Biting my lip and rubbing my eyes to dig out an ant. Then justifying it was the ant that caused the tears. Lying my way out safely.
Looking at the stars from my balcony. Knowing fully well, Thamma had roast chicken for lunch and beef steak for dinner. Consolation.
Watching a beautiful scene in the movies. Say somewhere in fascinating Switzerland. Watching good-looking people glide across snowy caps with stuffy gear. Waiting for my turn to do it someday. Adventure.
Hearing stories about forgiveness. Reading fancy quotes on how one should forgive and forget, because it’s the only way to move on. But I’m still not ready to let go.
Heady with victory. Beaming with an everlasting smile. A hundred trumpets blasting away in my heart. Only because things didn’t work out for a certain somebody. Revenge.
Sitting across a dirty sea in Bombay. The waves never stop dancing. The wind carries a whiff of garbage, but never stops whistling. The rocks are shabby, but appear to be lustrous black in my eyes. That’s how nature felt.
Simply, amazing. All of the above. Can I, for once be the richest one alive and awake to all the feelings designed in the world?
