Dear Future Wife

I don’t know if you are ever going to read this blog entry but still here I am sitting at the edge of my bed while humping my fingers on this old detritus keyboard, hoping you would… someday.

I am not a perfect person. In fact, I am shoddier than you think. I am not a fun filled Saturday night or a chilly Sunday sunset. I am a Wednesday 2 am. I am gunshots muffled in pillows. I am that torn rug in January which always fell short at the ankles. Leaving your feet naked and cold. My moods crack on a nightly basis and I am always hemmed in this awkward sadness which seems to be longer than a 21st December night. Often now and every then it collides my approval of having people around me. Because more than often I feel I don’t belong to conversations, that I belong to the full stop at the end of every sentence. There is this light and darkness mixed under my skin that now has become a storm which is brewing inside me. You don't see the lightning but often you can hear the echoes of thunder.

So basically, yeah I am crazy. Go save yourself and RUN. 
Run till you reach the shore.

PS: If you haven’t run away till now and you are still reading then I guess- I will make myself sleep on the couch tonight. No need to throw stuffs at me.

Obediently Yours !