Makeshift Bed

For almost a month now, I have been sleeping at my kutson at our room’s floor, with 6 pillows. I wake up at the sound of silent feet walking, and I stay up late at night at the sound of crickets’ lullaby. Sometimes I get so paranoid, I would be up for two hours, too afraid that rodents and killer ipis would crawl over me. But mostly, I lie awake thinking about a person from the past.

I’ll let you in on a secret; I’ll confess a weakness on a Saturday- I have fantacised about putting his lastname after mine, and it sounds good. Funny how thinking about it now makes me uneasy. Clearly, this person is out of my league. I get insecure and conscious speaking with him, thinking of every word I would say, knowing he would criticize me to shame. He would probably contradict every opinion that I have. After all, he’s the Atenean lawyer (to be).

This person reminds me of strawberries, kisses at theaters, cotton candies, nine in the evening, hugs, lengthy conversations, young and stupid love, respected decisions, runaways, Sto Domingo sundays, and Teddy bears. I guess I was the lucky one, I had him.

He’s a man from my future, and he’s out of my league.

(On other news, so this is how it feels to be writing a blog from iPod/phone).


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