After years of dabbling in drama, thriving in crisis and being bored of the predictable; one tends to crave the intimacy of the known. There is an overwhelming urge to give intuition a chance. What is the simplest wish? Just the feeling of coming home. Similarities that bind, differences that intrigue.
This known is subjective. Sometimes it is intuitive; when the unknown feels known. It’s like deja vu. You know. They know. You know that they know. They know that you know that they know. Yet, who knows? Geometry goes for a toss when parallel lives serendipitously intersect. Words feel superfluous; redundant almost. But vulnerability is fiercely hidden. We submissively hand in the reins to uncertainty; and it curbs what feels known. Why this restlessness?
Souls get stirred by cryptic connections. Somewhere along the way the unrequited loses its allure. Waiting tires you. So does making things happen. You want things to happen because they are meant to happen. You want your feelings mirrored, with the same intensity.
You want to give in to cliches and be loved for who you are. You want to be vulnerable in a safe cocoon. You want to know someone inside out. You want to know where exactly you stand, and revel in that knowledge. You want to put your feet up and relax. Maximum relaxation.
Signs can be misleading. But concrete steps are scary; so is initiative. The vicious cycle of hopeful wait is inviting; so is the ease of giving it all up. Where is the third choice? Where is the assertiveness?
Sometimes you fail to see what others notice; a face, a wallet, a degree or a diploma, a smile, a story, a past, an anguish, a success, a failure, a rebel streak, a confusion, an allure. You just feel a restless soul that mirrors yours. You want to run to them and say, “hey, me too“. But you don’t. You just move on to safer grounds, turn back stealthily, and observe from far.
Some hearts get easily confused. They know what they want, but they worry about what they are supposed to want. That ruins it all. What will people say? What will the future hold? There will be others, love doesn’t happen just once. The more we justify, the more we spoil it.
Sometimes it’s out there. Within reach. But you will let it go. Uncertainty wins. But you had known. Didn’t you?
Dialect of Heart 