welcome fans!

I am counting the days of when all of these will end. Not that I want it to. But I guess I know all too well that, like all the others, this is bound to end, and soon. The closer I stick to the worst possibility, the safer I will be from future unnecessary hurt and pain. So when reality closes in on me and on us, I will feel but the teeniest, tiniest bite. And it won’t even hurt that much because I have learned to let you go even when I am still holding you close.

So this is our version of postmodern love. No I love yous. No promises of forever. No forced loyalties. No structured commitments. Just a lot of laughter. A bunch of stories. Subtle expressions of sweet nothings. Gestures of trust and care. Actuations of people who are actually, maybe, just maybe, really in love with each other but playfully refuse to declare it out in the open.

For it might ruin the blissful beauty of this shrouded romantic mystery. For it might expose us into the ugly reality of conflicted relationships of rigid conventions and failed expectations.

But slowly, we are treading into those forbidden grounds. The simple intricacies of denying each other in front of everyone and how it secretly hurts a little. The little insecurities of how you walk ahead of me or too far away. The silent revolt of my insides when you exercise your fundamental right to flirt around. The awkwardness of being too close at one point and acting casually the next. The confusion of how to orchestrate the idea of us in front of all others who are too curious for comfort.

How long can we hold on to this experiment? How long can love or what seems like it deny and yet confirm its existence? How long ‘til all of these ends?

That is why I’m counting.