Mother told me just yesterday that I used to be very expressive.
Dancing in public places whenever there’s music playing. Heavy coloring which leads to vibrant and thick colors. Also resulting to peeled off skin and chopped wax. Declaring love in actions and in words.
I was never the timid one. I’d say things with conviction, with adoration in my eyes. I even report topics like an orchestra master: my hands are everywhere. I, myself, is everywhere.
I never regret things doing that way. I guess people, or half of them, would be missing the chances of their life just because they starve themselves from emotions.
But you know how things change. The wind and the tide are both part of it. There is always a time when a part of us will be blown as the wind howls. Always a part of us is lost whenever the tide is ebbing, and a part returned when the waves rush to the shore.
I figured it out today. It’s just.. it’s just that I saw you coming down from your car, not that actual some sort of prince in a carriage act. I saw you and I felt like there’s a turmoil inside me. There’s this feeling somewhere I can’t point out where is it coming from.
It was pricking the end of my nerves, shivering my spine. Like there were magmas inside my body and they exist because they were coming from my core and they can’t bare it any longer.
I am a crust breaking down. I am plates colliding. I am forming mountains, cripples of sweat. I am a volcano.
You came near me and for a moment, I’m afraid to be next to you. I hope my eyes doesn’t seem to be devouring you. I hope wanting is not registered in the circles of my irises.
I hope that when I touch you, you wouldn’t burn.
But after all, a smile is the only thing I could ever afford. God, that smile could launch a thousand rockets to the sky and I wouldn’t mind if debris would fall where ever it would like to fall. I just don’t mind.
I still am, Mom. Goddamn, I still am.