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Vositha's Blog

~ a story of life, love and other things

Vositha's Blog

Monthly Archives: July 2014

Getaway

18 Friday Jul 2014

Posted by vositha in Random Moments of Life

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

bad hotels, horrible bathrooms, OCD

I look into the mirror with blotches blocking my reflection. The toilet was too close to the sink to my comfort and the whole room gave me the creeps. It took several efforts to subdue the urge to run away, every time I tried to enter the horrendous bathroom, and to reach for the tap to wash my face. It was a battle between whether I would let myself stink and then lie on the almost yellow-faded bed-sheets or whether I do suppress the desire to puke, summon my courage and walk in to open the tap, expecting only water to gush out, and god forbid nothing else.

I have had bad stays in dodgy places. However this seems to top it all. It’s one of those days I am actually questioning whether it would be an overflow of the water from the commode, or the fan creaking above me which possibly could fall on-top myself, which might be the worst way  to face death this night.

Stay calm Vositha! Stay calm! You can dwell in this dump till tomorrow’s sunshine comes (hopefully)

 

“Write of You”

07 Monday Jul 2014

Posted by vositha in Random Moments of Life, Relationships

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

communicating feelings, I miss you, love, relationships

I have not written of you, you never gave me enough mental torture to. You were the one constant, in my life, putting up with me even when I push you too far. You would stand there, sulking as you wait, until I would act as if nothing happened, though I ask for pardon. But then you say sorry more times than I would, probably cause you like seeing me smile, or type “kiss” on the chat-box from my side, for your side of the screen.

I have not written of you, since we never properly fight. It is always I who throw a tantrum and you who bear it, the nasty wise-cracks and the sarcasm. You would wait till the “flash-anger” disappears, till I smile and say “I miss you”. We end up coining expressions of flash-storms, and my temper, which is certain of being unpredictable than any tempest, with your unwavering pretext of patience.

I will not write of you, not again, because I know you will be around, and that yours will be the first email I read on waking up, or the last email I type before going to sleep. I know there will be a call every day before you head out of office, or a message (or a hundred)  in between your day’s work. Whether I be grumpy, silent or pure evil, I know that I will find your side of communication waiting for me, in all politeness, at times formal, and at times highly frustrated.

I will not say often I miss you, almost never I love you, but in my silence you read I care, in my own weirdness, probably never to be spoken or written.

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