Petrichor

mon amour

I don't remember the last time I woke up not feeling stressed. The heavy feeling that I have to survive through another day has stuck to my mind like a bubble gum does when you step on it. I try to find happiness out of everything mundane, and it's getting harder. You're probably the only thing that makes me feel as if the world is not going to collapse on me if I don't do my home work. Remember that day when I thought my head was going to burst if I wrote one more page, and instead you  burst into my room with a large pizza and some pastries and made me realize how much I couldn't do without you? It's like that.

I do feel nice sometimes, though it's not that frequent. Again, most of them include you. You're like that little bird which sings outside my window to calm me down when I want to bash the alarm clock every morning. It sounds cheesy but not as much as those notes you send in the middle of the class to make me laugh when we're being taught Greek. You know, that day when it was raining so hard and I was about to open my umbrella and you stopped me, and asked me to just feel it? I'm not sure what I was supposed to feel, but the rain and the winds whispered in my ear that fever was worth whatever we both felt together.

It's like that. You taught me that staying up late doesn't only involve studies, and that glow-in-the-dark stickers can be imagined as something other than the eyes of a ghost. School doesn't seem so bad when I know that I'll get to see you and discuss about how stale the last night's dinner was.

For I used to be a hurricane before you came in and calmed me down to a sweet sea breeze. You turned the whirlwind of vile thoughts into a vibrant cluster of corals before I could shrivel up and die. Blessings aren't meant for me, and you seem to stick out like a sore thumb. It's not love that I feel for you, it's something more, something magical and unearthly that I don't feel like fathoming into a word. It's not everyday that you get to meet someone who can make you see sense in songs, or make you like dogs when you're an alurophile.

It's just like this. Like that rain we felt and the song we danced to and the pie we smeared around our mouth and the ink stains on my t shirt from your pen.

For you, I wouldn't mind stepping on a bubble gum a million times over and carrying it with me.