Insomnia, dear stranger

It’s 2:45 in the morning, and I am wide awake. This hasn’t happened in a while and I feel how my mood is changing. I am irritated with myself because I am to blame for tonight’s insomnia. I was tired but had an appointment tonight. I thought it would be good to have a cup of coffee. I should have drunk espresso instead. No matter how many espressos (espressi?) I drink in the evening, I always sleep through the night.

Also, it is hot, my partner had too much beer (TMI: his farting keeps me awake), and I need to get up for work in three hours.

I tried avoiding my phone for a long while, but gave up eventually. I probably had 2 hours of sleep so far.

On a positive note, I sold two books, and the more I think about it, the happier I about the release. Just 3 more hours at work, and I will be on leave until August 25th. I bought a dress for a wedding, it is unusually colourful, but I look good in it. Waiting for the first review of my novel.

Most of my thoughts these days revolve about the novel and how readers perceive it.

I should try to catch some sleep.

***

Dear Stranger,

It is late, and I can’t sleep. You were on my mind these last days. A lot. All the time. It is good that we are strangers right now, but once in a while, I would love it if we were acquaintances again. Ah, stranger. If you only knew what I know. Am I awake in your dreams? Some nights, I dream myself away to you. My head on your chest, your fingers combing my hair. Sweaty from the day, our skin would stick together, and unbothered, we would lead a naked life. Naked body, naked soul. I close my eyes, and I see you. Always yours, “marriage material”

3:32 – goodnight

Dear stranger,

Who would have guessed five years ago that our dance would still continue? Months of silence, weeks of unconditional love. Who would have guessed? One of the voices in my head insists that it is not five years because we have silent months, and yet… We always find our way back together.

I obviously won’t forget you, why should I? And you can not forget me; why should you?

Whenever things are happening in my life, I want you to know. I want to get in touch and tell you, but I don’t. I hold back. Recently, I learned that I am holding back much more than I thought I was. It’s weird, and yet… I still maintain that you are the only person on this earth who knows me bare. You are also the only person who never judged me, just encouraged me to be the best version of myself I can be. And for that, dear stranger, I love you. And I will continue to feel that way.

Are you there? You used to ask that question. My response was always the same: I will always be there. Promised.

Yours sincerely,

Sweetie

VC is taking a dive

Out of the dark, into the light. No more being hidden away in a gym bag. From where I am, I can see lots of naked male butts. It might be because I am in an all-male changing room. Some are hairy; some are smooth, some could use some sun, others need more exercise. I am grabbed in strong hands, and two feet are pushed through the designated holes. I glide up smooth calves, pass manly knees, and muscular thighs. I find my place; fitting snuck as a glove against the intimate region of my wearer. He is a world-class athlete. Today we will only do a training session in the pool, but I know that we will both give our best. I am touching patches of skin that no person has touched in a while. Only VC. There we go. One jump, heels over head and we dive almost to the bottom of the pool. He breaks through the chlorine filled water, takes a breath and dives in again.
VC; that’s what they call when he cuts the water with every stroke of his arms. Once I am wet, I am clinging to his skin, I don’t want to leave his body. All I know is that I was made for him. I was made to hug his body. I want to believe that he wins races because of me.

###

10 minutes and the timer went off. 233 words. I don’t know if it is a lot or not, we always need to take into consideration that my ideas have to be translated into English while I am writing. This is what I wrote in this short time… Unedited and no mistakes were corrected.

Something a lot like love

I wake up, rested, and with a smile on my face. This hasn’t happened in a long while, and I stretch my arms above my head with a low moan. The sun is shining, and the birds are singing their songs, announcing another hot summer day. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I turn to face you, and I am startled, and a bit embarrassed, when I see you sitting cross-legged with your laptop balancing on your knees and papers next to you. You are pinching a pen between your lips, and your reading glasses add something serious to your face. Your hair is messy and sticking in every direction, I smile, remembering how it felt between my fingers last night. I wonder how late it is and how long you have been awake. Your fingers are caressing the keys of your laptop as if they were on a mission. I nudge your knee with mine, making you smile and dropping the pen from your lips. The speed of your fingers falters, but they don’t stop.

By now, I know that you are a workaholic – a real sexy one at that, but I never had the chance to wake up with you in work mode before. It feels domesticated, and as if we are entering the next level of our relationship. At the same time, it feels as if it has always been like this; familiar. “Let me just finish this real quick, and then I am all yours, ” you say, and I nod. Your voice is low and thick with sleep. I want to crawl into your lap and claim your attention, but I am too old for that. You asked for a couple of moments to finish your business – I respect that. The words “I love you” are at the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them down. A concentrated frown is forming between your brows, and you lean closer to your screen. Intelligence is sexy, and you are the perfect example of that.

I decide not to distract you, and turning to my stomach; I fumble for my phone on the nightstand. I could get out of the bed and freshen up in the bathroom, after all, this is the first time we spent the day, the night, and the next morning together without any of us being in a hurry to get to work. We have never spent this much time together. But I want to stay in bed next to you. Your heady, sweaty scent is comforting for me. Your presence and your silent company are all I want for now. For a moment, insecurity gets the best of me, hoping that I am not a total mess this morning. In the movies, lovers wake up looking perfect, hair and makeup are where they are supposed to be, their eyes are never swollen. But I am not an actress; I am me. I run my hands over my unruly hair, matting it down slightly; after that, I run my fingers under my eyes, wiping smudged mascara away. That has to be enough for now. I am not perfect.

Concentrating on my phone again, I read the news and check my social media channels. Nothing exciting to see, and I keep scrolling until I see a picture of us. We are laughing into the camera, both holding a drink, looking flushed and happy. The caption underneath isn’t written in words; there are two emoticons: a smiling face, and a red heart. I smile, and my heart races. We had a great evening. Perfect even. But I hadn’t noticed that you posted our photo online. I don’t mind, too much, though. Until now, we were dating casually; the picture is making what we have more real and official. I like that. Butterflies are doing somersaults in my stomach. The comments are all kind and friendly; some are teasing. Some people are congratulating you on your new girlfriend. Is that what I am? Am I your girlfriend? We haven’t put a label on our relationship, but maybe that too is the natural evolution of things?

“Be right back, ” you announce, cleaning the papers from your side of the bed and tugging the laptop under your arm. I nod and get back to the social media app with a sigh. Is this it? Am I supposed to leave now? I expected a make-out session in the morning, continuing where we left off last night, but real life is not a story or a movie. I tug a strand of my hair behind my ear and push the blanket off my legs—time to get moving.

I startle when I feel your lips on my calf. One of your hands caresses my leg while your lips leave a kissing trail all over my body until you turn me in your arms. I can’t hide my happy grin.

“Good morning, where are you going?” you ask, kissing my lips. You taste like mint, and I am embarrassed that I didn’t take the time to brush my teeth. But you don’t let me overthink. You have a way of distracting my train of thoughts. My hands map your skin, touching as much of you as I can, while your kisses get more demanding. I close my eyes and feel the mattress dip under our weights. You cover me from head to toe, framing my face with your hands. I feel every inch of you pushed against me, igniting my need for you. I spread my legs, and just like a puzzle, everything falls into place. This is where I am supposed to be right now. I look at you and see an expression of love and lust. My heart is expanding and pushing every thought aside; I am pulled under in a wave of emotions.

We stay in bed most of the day. Making love, reading on our phones, talking. We just get up to eat and take a shower. The sun sets, and the moon rises.

It is Saturday night, and as my senses are filled with you, I moan the words I kept back the entire day: “I love you.” You smile, and your touches become more sensual, and the way you make love to me becomes something deeper. Something meaningful.

I rest my head on your chest after being boneless from my last orgasm. Your hand caresses my back. “Say it again,” you demand. I smile against your skin. “I love you.” My cheeks flush as the words leave my mouth. “Is it cheesy when I say that I do too?” you reply. You shuffle from underneath me and turn to face me. “Is it too early to be in love?” I burst out laughing. We are in our mid-thirties and behaving like teenage girls. You join me, kissing my forehead when you regain your breath. “Stay, I love you.” The seriousness of your words overwhelms me, but I am trying to hide it. I simply pull you into my arms. And it feels good. No words are needed. Just us. The connection between us.

We settle in for the night, watching a movie on your laptop. I haven’t worn any clothes all day long, I think before I fall asleep in your bed for the second night in a row.

Dear stranger

Dear stranger,

It has been a while. I am not okay, and that’s okay. This time, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. Someone else is breaking my heart, and I am trying to be strong, and I am failing because I am exhausted and frail and in physical pain. I want to take my phone and send you a text because you are the person I want most in my life, but you are hiding in your mind and in your own life. Silently you left my life again, and that’s okay. When I think about you, my heart is expanding, and my creativity overflows. You are in most bits and pieces that I write. Countless times daily, you are in my thoughts – and it never makes me sad. It always makes me smile. The realisation hit me that the memories we made (and will make again, I am sure) will never fade or die. They are in me, in my blood. And since I write so much, it also means that they are immortal. You are immortal because my writing is tinted with thoughts of you. I am grateful that you are a part of me. Sometimes you are there, ready to be loved, other times you go away, close the door and leave me guessing what happened. I will never get any answers. I am making peace with that. I am making peace with us. If you are thinking half as much about me than I do about you, then everything will be alright. Not now, it is not the right time yet, but soon. Someday.

Until then, my heart is open for you. We can make it if we try.

xx

Sunday Scribblings #5 – light

There is light in your eyes, I can see it when you are happy, and I can see it fade when sadness covers you like a thin veil. You think that nobody sees when your light is dim, but I do.

Let me hold you in this dark storm. Let me comfort your worried mind.

There used to be light in your eyes. It is less bright now; the weight of your mind is darkening your thoughts. One day soon the sun will rise for you again, and there will be bright light.

Written for Aaron’s Sunday Scribblings Challenge. Every Wednesday he shares a prompt to write something. I am not terribly inspired these days. A challenge like this helps. 🙂

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Too scared to go out into this reality where nothing waits for a lonely soul like mine. If the wind could blow me away and if the rain could make me grow…, but I am too scared to allow it. I am taking what you are offering, but I am too much of a coward to give back. Am I a thief? Stealing your soul and your mind? An emotional vampire who will suck you dry until all that is left is a beautiful vessel? I care about you, but is that a lie? Which are the right moves to make? And if I am too scared to move, what am I waiting for? Should I set you free? I can’t. I can’t let go. If I had a fast car or a plane, I would be with you. Are you hard to find? I can’t find you in this dark and muddled sea. Just say “it’s okay” to ease my broken mind. I am in control, I know it well. Forget me not. Keep waiting!

make this nightmare go away (short fiction)

I woke up with a racing heart and ragged breath. I looked around myself to ground my weary mind. I had that dream again. The dream in which I saw my mother get on the bus and leave me behind. Except, it wasn’t a dream; it was a memory that haunted me since I was a child.

I was a grown-up woman, doing what grown-ups do. I worked forty hours every week – sometimes more. I met friends, went for drinks or dinner with them. Occasionally, I fell in love. More often, I craved the physical connection a body could offer. A physical connection was easy to find, love – not so much.

Someone was stirring next to me, and I couldn’t remember his name. I should have felt uncomfortable, but I didn’t. Waking up next to someone I didn’t know was not uncommon for me. I would not rely on him to distract me from my childhood memories. I didn’t trust him. He didn’t feel like the protection or safety I needed; the nameless man next to me was only another warm body to make me forget the longing and the emptiness that spread through my body like cancer. The older I got, the more cells were infected. “Go back to sleep, honey,” his gravelly voice mumbled. I snorted. Those were the exact same words my mother had said before the doors of the bus closed behind her. Or was it my imagination playing tricks on me?

I pushed the duvet off my body and let my feet connect with the hardwood floor. I needed something real, something that earthed me. Goosebumps rose on my naked skin. I couldn’t say if it was the lingering memory of the reoccurring dream, or if it was the chill from the starry night sneaking in through the opened window. I decided that it didn’t matter.

There were so many little thoughts every day, and most of them didn’t matter. Once in a while, I felt as if I didn’t matter either. My weekdays were filled with responsibilities, work, and duties. There was no room for anything else. My weekends were wasted with alcohol and casual affairs who did not fill the voids I was looking to fill. I didn’t allow my mind to come to terms with old wounds. But the mind and the soul knew that I needed to take better care of myself; hence the dreams.

I was afraid to be abandoned and to be left behind. It was easier to keep everyone at arm’s length and stay distant. It was more comfortable to pretend that I was happy than to lower my masks and show the real me. In truth, I had no idea what happiness felt like. Happiness with a partner. Someone to share my life and my fears with. Once in a while, there had been someone special, but we weren’t in touch a lot anymore. Different live paths had led in different directions. And maybe my expectations were too high? All my life, I had been searching for love, for a person who made me feel safe. Perhaps I was just too blind to see him? What if I was too weak to hold on to the one who mattered most?

I took my phone from the nightstand, and the illuminated display showed the loneliness of my life. A couple of shallow notification that I wasn’t interested in; I pushed them all away with a couple of swipes.

I padded down to the bathroom to relieve my bladder and splash some water in my face, then I took my robe from the hook attached at the door and pulled it around me. I didn’t want to go back to the stranger in my bed, but I didn’t want to wake him up and throw him out in the middle of the night, either. In the living room, I sat down in my favourite chair next to the window. I could see the sparkling dots on the dark firmament.

“Are you there?” I sent a message to the person who meant more than most to me. I didn’t expect a response at this late hour; I just wanted to make sure that he would think of me when he woke up. I was about to put the phone down when it vibrated in my hand. My heart went like mad when I saw his face on the display, but I accepted the call anyway.

“Why are you still up? Bad dream?” He didn’t waste any time with pleasantries; he knew me too well. I nodded my head and added an affirmative sound.

“Are you alone?” I hated that my reply was negative, but I answered truthfully nonetheless.

“Is he asleep?”

“Yes. I am in the living room watching the stars.” I almost whispered.

“Okay.” I heard some rustling as if he was getting out of bed, footsteps followed, and then some more rustling. “I will put you on speakerphone. Just so that you know if the sound is different.” And then I heard the first chords of a piano song I wasn’t familiar with. Like a soothing blanket, it washed over me. There were no words, just music, and it was for my ears only. The sounds alleviated some of the chills from my body, and I grabbed a blanket from the couch to wrap myself in it. I nestled deep in the blanket and yawned. I was tired; it surprised me how much so. I yawned noisily again.

“Sleep tight, baby girl. I will always be there for you.” I smiled. Maybe I had found someone safe, but the thought became frayed as the music faded, and I drifted off to a dreamless sleep again. Maybe tomorrow, I would remember those words, or maybe they became a part of a distant memory too.

30 meters

Read at your own discretion… This short fiction is about a suicidal person jumping off a roof. Not for the faint of heart.

*****

I am standing on the window ledge. Outside There’s barely space for my feet. They aren’t large. It’s the sneakers which make them appear huge. Is that a stain on my Jeans? Does it make sense that I care? The wind is playing in my hair. I like that. And the wind kisses my face. It’s not cold. Not warm either. Something in between. Pleasant. I should have undressed. I should have thought about experiencing all of this naked. Naked I came into the world and naked I will leave. But I didn’t prepare this. There is no plan. The way my jacket flaps against my chest irks me. I take it off and let it glide down. I watch the black cloth as it floats down down down until it hides the gasping crowd. The people down there on the sidewalk are all looking up at me. Are they seeing me? Do they know who I am or why I am here? Are they seeing tomorrow’s headlines? I hope there aren’t any children. Parents shouldn’t gawk and watch a person jump off a roof with their children. That’s bad parenting. How will they explain to the little ones what they are witnessing when they have no idea what they are looking at?! They don’t know me and my messed up mind.

I look up into the sky. It’s grey. The clouds are moving fast. I always liked the clouds. I liked to watch them and dream myself away. Away from my life. I smile and try to touch the cotton-like clouds. But I can’t quite reach them. And yet…

I feel that I am in control. For the first time in my life. I will end here. My life, my journey – they will end here.

I can hear the wail of sirens. I can’t see them yet, but they are coming for me. Or whatever will be left of me after I landed head first on the concrete. Who are they? Firefighters? Paramedics? The police? Haha, the Police – Sting. Fields of Gold and that version Eva Cassidy sang that always chokes me up. Was her name Cassidy or Cassedy? I will look it up later. Oh right! There will be no later. I will miss Music… was my first love and it will be my last. Music of the fut-SHUT-UP!! Thoughts, shut the fuck up! This is not the time and not the place to distract me.

I check my pockets. I don’t want anything falling out and hurting my audience. Keys. Cellphone. Pen. I crouch down and put them on the ledge next to me. I get up, smile again and braid my hair. I don’t have anything to keep it together, but at least it’s not in my face anymore. I used to love the wind in my hair. Why is it irritating me right now? Maybe I should have shaved my head before coming up here, but… no. I like my hair. And I didn’t plan this. There is no plan. I run my fingers over the thick braid. My mood is shifting. From bubbly to irritated and angry.

My knees are weak. They are shaking, but it’s okay. It’s the height, I am not a fan of heights. Soon, I am going to fly. I wonder how it will feel to be weightless. Carried by the wind. That Lenny Kravitz song comes to my mind I want to get away. I wanna fly away yeah yeah… and I try to push it out of my head. I don’t want it to be my last soundtrack. Maybe ‘asleep’ by the Smiths would be good or ‘I don’t fit’ by Madrugada… I should have made a playlist before coming up here. I feel completely unprepared, and I don’t even have an appropriate song in my head. I should have planned this, but there is no plan.

I shake my head and jump. No more reason to pull off the inevitable. Goodbye, cruel world. I’m leaving you today…

30 meters

I can fly, and I am screaming in ecstasy. It’s better than I thought. I’m flying without wings. Whoohoo!! I wonder if I shut my door and turned off the music. Did I lock my car and feed the cat? I should have paid my rent yesterday. I forgot. Does it still matter?

25 meters

Did I call my friends and leave them notes? I didn’t. How will they remember me, and will they be sad? I know, I was rather complicated, but maybe they’ll realize that they miss me and that they loved me. I just hope that they don’t forget me. And I hope they will not talk bad about me. I should have been more approachable.

20 meters

I hope I don’t make a huge mess. Poor people standing there. Oh, but what if I hit one of them when I touch the ground? Will they die too? Will that make me a murderer. I don’t want to be a murderer. Please, move!

15 meters

I am hungry. I should have eaten before climbing up the stairs. Chocolate would be nice now. Or a burger. I will miss a couple of things. Pasta… mhmm…

10 meters

My braid came undone, and my hair covers my face. I am still flying. But I can’t see it.

5 meters

Wow, this is really happening!

4 meters

It’s too fast. It’ll be over soon.

3 meters

Is there life after death. I deserve a second chance.

2 meters

Please don’t let it hurt

1 meter

*****

My mind is twisted. I am not sure where the idea for this came from.