Cheers, my good fellow.

It's like being in a glass of champagne. You know the pretty beige at the bottom, where bubbles rise in a sparkling display of cheer and weightlessness? Not that. It feels more like I'm lying on the surface of the liquid. The part that no one looks at, which is turbulent and full of bubbles bursting all around me while I try frantically to miss all of them. In the hope that I can escape and figure out why something that is celebratory, and deemed by the world to be absolutely wonderful, is threatening to burst a bubble right under my dainty little ass and shoot me straight off into the heavens.

Stardust

Stardust

When the thought of you brings me a smile
and trades nightmares for lullabies
I'll think of them as orange rays
that fill the crinkles of my eyes.

When your song I find in trees
and stone and snow and rocks and sea
I'll think of it as cool green breeze
that lifts my flames past the leaves.

And when I feel my love for you,
It's pure, unadulterated hues,
I'll think of it as lone stardust
sprinkled on my grave of blue.

A boxful of love was delivered to my house yesterday. The fact that my parents sent me a big pink butterfly-shaped balloon proves that they think I am 6 years old. The fact that I love it proves that I am. :-/

All the goodies absolutely made my day. Aah, the benefits of being a spoiled brat. :)

"And the air was full of Thoughts and Things to Say. But at times like these, only the Small Things are ever said. Big Things lurk unsaid inside."
- Arundhati Roy, (The God of Small Things)

It is the tendency of human nature to ignore the Big Things, even when they are chewing us up inside, desperate to break out and start a story of their own, and still, we keep them hidden, afraid that if released they would spread like spores and fill everyone with the knowledge of your vulnerabilities. So we make a big deal of the Small Things. It is what keeps us all happy, sane, and helps us survive.

I live in denial of Big Things, and Big words, looking at them with the corner of my eye. Yes, it is the tendency of my nature to smooth over the Big Things, while My God of Small Things stands forlorn, invalidated. I pretend to be content with what I give, and revel in the small tokens of acceptance that I might throw your way.

Teacher

I still remember the day I met you. We were both young, and neither of us understood much of what was happening. I was happy, though, for sure. You just seemed confused, happy as long as milk was being provided.
You slept in your little bed-box. Sometimes you climbed out too. You got my little pink stuffed elephant because Mummy said you felt lonely sleeping all alone at night. I remember how much it would stink later on! I didn’t mind though, even when you tore it to pieces. I liked you, you see. Even when you chewed up all our dolls and slippers, even when Papa was so angry at you because you tore his uniform. Even when you peed on me when I was showing you off to my friend, I still liked you.
I also remember the day you bit me. And I had to get a shot. Well, I guess there was a day I didn’t like you.
And then you grew!! You were bigger than me for a while, and wouldn’t fit in my arms! And you yelled at everyone! Even when one of us came home, you would run and slide and bark at the door mad as a dog! Not much with Papa though, you’d sit staring at the door, ears cocked, waiting to jump on him as soon as he comes home.
You loved us so much, even when we took you to the vet, even when we gave you a bath knowing fully well how much you disliked it. Even when we all ate a yummy dinner and forgot to give you your share. You jumped and wagged and loved. As if that’s all you knew how to do.
And then I grew up, and you could fit into my arms again. Now you’re old. And your doctor says we should feel lucky to still have you around. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve always known how lucky I was... am. I loved coming home to you. I loved holding you when you came into my room at 2am, shaking from the noise of the firecrackers.
I know your eyes don’t work so well now, and your ears don’t always hear when they should. Though I know you’ll never read this or hear me say it, I know you know how I feel. Because you know Love. You should, you taught me how to.