just minishorts.

I sort of miss the way I used to be sometimes. You know, the words would come out at the right time, when I wanted them to. I was more in control then, despite the emotional waves that would come and sweep me once in a while. And then, when those waves decided to arrive, they result in the cathartic release that reflects in my pieces… in the aftermath, later, when I come back and look at them, I think again, and it isn't nearly that bad.

I suppose it happens–all this, once in a while, of course. You stumble, every once in three years or so, that stumble makes you fall, and you fall, hard, and it hurts like hell. You pick up the pieces, you remember how it used to be, happy, carefree, like nothing else matters. You lament the mistakes you made, for a while you regret. And then you remembered that there wasn't any need for regrets anyway.

And then you meet someone. Once in a while, you climb up the stairs, other once-in-a-whiles, you roll down two or three steps. But you're optimistic, always… or rather, people like me usually are optimistic, always looking at 'the big picture', an idealistic one, no doubt, but still, something big. Always, when I slip a step, I remember the other stairway, where you were the optimist, but the stairs were shaky and rumbling most of the time, and when I got injured and paralysed from that damning fall, you know, the one where the bricks decided to give way and crumble on you.

Oh you know that story already, you know? The one where a nice fella who happened to be passing by decided to extend a hand of friendship, where she takes it in gratitude, and somehow, somewhere along the way, they decided to build a new staircase together.

Three years ago new staircases were out of the question. You had dreams, in the dreams you saw only one single staircase–hell, no way was I going to meet some other guy. We think of these all the time, SL tells me, everyone who's in love for the first time wants to marry the first love.

I'm thinking… how would you ever know, which time is the first time? Someone once told me, love isn't a constant, I'd like to add on to that. Time isn't a constant either… when you put two in-constants together, are you sure there's really a concept of 'the first time'?

I'm beginning to doubt that, these days.

That said, I'd like to wish Daryan a very happy birthday. Here's to a great First Time in everything, in particular, your new job. And this birthday together.

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