I Want To Believe

It will be 4am in just a few seconds and I awoke with a sudden anxiety attack.
Identity crisis at 4 in the morning, in sleep.
It cant possibly get worse than this.

Lying in bed and looking at the blades of the fan as the nightwatchman whistles under my window isnt easing anything. It used to once, now its just the same mundane banality of my existence. I live a life which could have been many things, some great perhaps, some better than others. Did I succeed? Will I succeed? I dont know. I might just be one of those many losers who live their life and contemplate every leaf that falls of the tree...or look for sympathy in the exquisitness of pain. But is my very existence painful? I dont know. I am just a being living a life which has been given to me, without asking for it or maybe I did. I dont know. They say each one of us has a purpose in life, things they need to accomplish. Whats mine?

I need to believe in something.
Anything.

Of Memories And More

It was a cold December night and after standing outside staring at the moon for over an hour, I came inside and finally decided to sleep. The icy wind had left my lips frozen and my cheeks stinging. But it was exactly the reason why I was outside in the first place. I loved the whole sensation of being in that extreme, of feeling that kind of pain, it was as if someone had enveloped me in their bright aura. But thats not why am writing this.

Wrapped in my cozy quilt I woke up with a start and looked at my watch. 6:30am on a December morning, Christmas. I looked out of the tiny space through the window. It was still dark outside, possibly foggy. Who would come and knock on my door at this time? And then there it was. A firm knock. Again.

'Who is it?'
I didnt want to get out of my warm haven.
'....'
'Hello...who is it?'
'...'

The knock continued. Getting out of my quilt as the tips of my toes touched the bare marble floor, a chill swept my being, goosebumps had a field day, errupting everywhere they possibly could. Tip toeing to the door as I opened the door, I was enveloped in a big hug. And a kiss.
On the lips.

What followed next is a bit blurred. But the sensation of it is so fresh that after almost six years now, I can reach out and touch it all over again. Words would not be enough to describe the sensation of being touched. The hard callous of his palms rasping against my skin, his early morning beard tickling my throat and his hot breath in my ear. I had longed for this, but had never told him so. It was my dream, my wish which I had kept secret all these many months. Yes we were 'seeing' each other, but it was complicated, there were others - for him and me too.
His hands reached under my shirt and pulled it off me, a sudden shyness made me duck under the covers and touch him. I wanted him like I had never wanted any other and for the moment it seemed he wanted me too. Just as much. He was just as hungry. After what seemed like an eternity and covered in sweat, I looked at him. Panting for breath he smiled.

'You know I hadn't even brushed my teeth.'
'tasted wonderful'
'You're a sick person'

An eight hour office and several sms's later I stopped at the church on my way back to light a candle.
I had gotten my wish.