Monday, June 30, 2008

Ephemeral ride in 'The Crush'

It's funny how that a person could be someone in your circle for months without any sort of special feelings... and all it takes is just one moment, one incident to dislodge the ball down a hill whose end is uncertain. Rolling down a steep hill, you'd reach a certain points and hell, you don't know how you bloody got there. Because everything was upside down, then right-side up then upside down again... and you're dizzy with exhilaration, with confusion, without the vomit-y feeling.

For me? His laughter did it.

I saw him laugh many times before...the difference is, in that instant I was mesmerized by it. Tipped me over the line, with his little burst of mirth. The little things that you wouldn't notice before, you do now... like, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he laughs. The playfulness, cheekiness, sexiness of his gaze. That throaty laugh that carries even though you're many cubicles away, yet never intrusive.

Then two thoughts running in my head; one, in horror, from the recesses of my memory "Oh shit. Again? But him? This doesn't look good," and two, on a floaty cloud, oh how nice it would be to kiss that lips of his / be held by his arms against his body etc (wtf).

Time did not freeze, nor slow down for me.... and it just left me longing for more of that sound.

Later on, I'd notice his hands; how his knuckles form when he flex his fingers, the squarish fingertips, the roughness of it .... and how nice it would be if it trails across my cheek, my lips, neck and more.

I love and hate the giddiness of an infatuation. The feeling of being permanently attached to the drip of Happy Meds is fun. A mere flicker of his image in your brain is enough to up that dosage. But always, accompanied by a twinge of sadness because that's all it is... one hand clapping. Sort of like being tossed in a deep pool of happy-inducing sedatives. You're drowning, it's not good for you, but why oh why it feels damn good and the colours are so pretty to look at. Tried to swim out before I get too deep, when all I wanted is to relax and let it sweep over me. At least I'm old enough to not expect anything from it.

In all honesty though... unlike other crushes, I thought that it has the possibility of becoming something. Seeing that I'm older and supposedly more mature than the gawky 15 year old girl in her blue pinafore. But I guess I still have that 15 year old crouching in me somewhere, just waiting for the opportunity to stand up, run out and cause a havoc of sorts. Within myself anyway. I wish I was more of me when I spoke to him; that I hadn't dissolved myself into someone who is barely a quarter of me. I wish I had stopped trying to impress him, when what I really want, is to get to know him.

I wish I hadn't accepted his disparaging remarks on me. Which I would be pissed with if it weren't because of this infatuation.

The ball slows down, with a little vomit-y feeling now.

He confuses me. Even before I liked him, this crossed my mind. At times he's gentle, thoughtful and kind. Then he goes an entire 180 degrees on you, becoming mean and scathing. He would help you out, and then throw remarks about how he wouldn't introduce you to his friends. Or how, one day, in the backseat of a car he brushed my cheek with his fingers when I was sleeping and asks gently, "Sleep already?", and the next day, tells me that I'm disgusting. And no, it wasn't a joke. Seriously, I'm so -_________-;;;. What shit is this, man wtf.

But then again, by the time the latter incident happened, logic had already came by and rescued me from hope. The very hope that would had possibly prevented me from a dignified exit. Before I'd be totally bummed or stunned or sad or [insert depressing adjective] by his words. I had enough. He's just not important enough for me to care. And likewise.

I guess he knows. I have a feeling that it's not only him who knows -___-. Either way, doesn't matter. (Mind you, I didn't fawn over him. I was being as normal as I could.)

This ride lasted for 2 months plus.

And to this day, I don't know if he's an asshole in a kind-guy suit or a kind guy in an asshole suit.