We tell ourselves stories…I tell myself stories…I rember my stories…I keep them my stories

Pursue, Pursuit…

I remember the time when I tried to pursue you. We were friends, best of friends. I liked your company when you came by the shop. We would have endless conversations about stuff, about God, about struggles. I believe we both were very attentive to the numerous conversations we had.

Then it was somewhere that the urge to pursue you crept in. Subtle, and every so quiet. This urge would make my head hurt, my heart hurt and kept me awake for some considerable time. I tossed in my bed quite often. I reasoned sometimes that I would just tell you. Yes, the notion of a ‘kamikaze’ way of doing it. I rehearsed, “I like you,” countless times on my bed. Only to reach a conclusion that it was probably a bad idea and that it would make me seem like a creep or a jerk. I didn’t want that to happen for sure.

Days passed when you would come, and the urges of “I like you” became more and more apparent in my conscious mind. It was seriously invading every area in me. At times I just felt like blurting it out. Just to let it out in the open. The intensity of someone controlling his fart. Obviously anything that is held and suddenly burst out would eventually smell as bad. Go figure.

It’s not fun to have these emotions in you. I remember the time that I was really jealous when that friend of your…A(something something, I forgot his name) is it, came and met you. You were so exited and you just ‘shouted’ like you always do. The expression of when you have not met someone in a long while kind of expression. I was raging red. Stupid fella. Or there was the time when you always talked about the guy who worked with you in the hotel. Stupid fella. I was afraid that you would fall for them. And here I was taking my time to tell you (I’ll avoid my telling depiction of that fart imagery for this time).

Eventually though I got the idea that we should go catch a movie together. A corny intention of getting to be with you. Ofcourse I didn’t want it to look so obvious. But I just offered if you wanted in or not on the movie. That sounded better. It was like, “I want to watch this movie alone, hey you wanna come? If you don’t, its ok.” That would not sound so obvious. That day was great, for me. I was smiling in bed, ready to plot another time with you on my off day.
But soon it would sound corny. So I think the second time we walked around town and talked. The second day was the one it almost came out but thank God it didn’t. It was the third day over a coke and sprite when I blurted out. And ironically, it didn’t have that fart like metaphor I explained earlier. It smelled like flowers to be exact, or was it like the finest perfume?

I managed to pursue you. Got hold of you. Be with you.

But like every pursuit, in this matter, relationship, working it out becomes hard. Sometimes I am working back at pursuit. Pursuing someone that is already happy with me? Sometimes I want to hold things tight. Who wouldn’t? What is the best thing to do? Pursue when pursuing is done? I guess the next thing is sorting out the middle narrative of pursuit-______________-commitment. Funny formula. I can’t sleep that’s why I’m writing this. Its 4:36am. I’m still learning and I am a very bad at this. I don’t want to lose anything. Heartbreak is not something I would like to go through again apparently. Working through the middle of pursuit and commitment is the dividing tension. It either breaks us or pulls us. It’s the silver lining, the fragile thread. Anyway these are just musings of someone who can’t sleep…now it’s 4:42am. Good morning.

Dated: Somewhere in 2008. This is the edited piece.

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