L’il by L’il

A l’il bit of secret,

A l’il touch of smile,

A l’il exchange of laughter

And a fucking shitload of bloody mess I’ve got to clean up, all by myself.

You see, I’ve gotten over almost everything and finally got everything I wanted. A job, a life, a bunch of friends and a country that I belong to.

What the fuck do I really want now?

Dharma service in the morning talked about the monster of desire. How we want more, and more. How we want things we cannot get. How we would never feel satisfied, as long as there’s the monster inside us.

I’m toying with a weird, ever expanding creature. I know the consequences but this go-against-the-tide nature of mine wants to touch a smoldering coal, just to experience how the pain feels like.

And the stupid, berserk female hormones coursing through my veins meant I would start fantasising about a future with him. What should I cook for us when I get home? Would I get annoyed by him squeezing the toothpaste from the top instead of the bottom end? What would the first morning-after be like?

So much questions, so little time and opportunities. So many answers that I shudder to think what he would tell me.

Why can’t I just take the easy way out?