Some strange little writing I made. Because of the pandemic and another crush on another emotionally unavailable boy. Again.
Every place is a heaven of its own kind.
In this heaven I've been locked in I found timelessness, selfless love and wilderness, I found the simple pleasure of being a child, of letting my mom braid my hair like I'm still five, I found a strange peace in curling up in my dad's lap and getting crushed to near death by his bear hugs.
I found the gentle breeze of the rattling table fan and the white light of study lamp and the stillness of night life with every incomplete assignment and unprepared exams looming closer.
And there are other heavens, heavens of past - the once huge playground in front of my elementary school.
The peeking heaven in the strange solitude of traveling in a crowded bus, tired after a class, watching the sun go down as I listen to songs crooning to my ears alone, trying to decipher some greater, deeper meaning out of every mundane thing happening. Hoping. Praying.
Everything a heaven in it's own right if I saw past the thorns and onto the petals blooming.
Some heavens are the joy of meeting kindred spirits and conversations that never stop.
I tend to hold onto some heavens.
To me the best of heavens are the ones uncared for, sitting in front of a cold faded marble table with a steadily cooling coffee in between my hands and feeling this reckless abandonment. silently watching strangers move, my mind buzzing with how every single person around me have a life just as complicated as my own, have fears, ambition, passion and mistakes just like me.
Sonder. Every stranger has a story to tell.
There are other heavens I long for. The one that creeps onto my brain during sleepless nights when I wonder if I would ever be set free, is you.
It's strange how much seconds of a half-hearted smile, or an unintended gaze can set off such a strange happiness in me.
Truly, the best of heaven are uncared for, and I have never felt more uncared for than when in your presence.
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