21/10/26 - WAVES

oftentimes the chaos that enters my life comes around in waves. first it was a wave of sickness and nausea and coughing, until it receded, and i was fine for a weekend. i went for a dj set, and you met me and my friends at the carpark to drink, but went home before we all left. then an even bigger wave of sickness rolled around exactly when you were standing flush next to me at the tortoise show. i clutched onto your arm, fevered on the walk back to the train station. you said i was pale and breathing hard.

i had a million assignments after, my eyes crusted over, i went to 4 doctors and finally got healed. i had a two night poetry performance. you came and gave me flowers. i put them in a vase in my living room for everyone to see. the wave receded after, and i felt some peace for a week.

the waves started coming back in quicker successions, as that weekend you were at my door to get your camera and i was feeling a weird cramping in my stomach. the beginning of the fucking end. the waves built themselves up in the form of cramping again while writing a post-colonial essay, of making plans to see you. there was an ebb and flow, a sign of something i had been putting off for ages.

since i’d met you, almost a year ago, i had not gotten my period. my fault entirely, i just hated to take the medicine i was supposed to. so when the cramping started, i cursed under my breath. god damn it, this again. i hated it, it made me suicidal, depressed, borderline dysphoric and always always in pain and constant discomfort.

we had plans to meet up on friday, i was visiting your dorm room for the first time. A was also going to be there, and i was just excited to see you after so long. i thought about my outfit. i’d gotten a long skirt from my sister who went to india, and i thought of the deftones tshirt i had yet to cut up. on thursday night, i was working a shift at the cinema, and i finally—divinely— got my period. some part of me was hoping i wouldn’t, because there was a chance we would be alone together, in a private bedroom, for the first time ever. but when do you actually ever get what you want?

i woke up bright and early the next morning, even though i was tired. i showered, half-expecting nothing to happen, so i didn’t shave or bother too much. i put my makeup on, cut up the shirt on my bedroom floor and got ready to go. i told everyone i was going to school. i spent 2 hours travelling to your school instead, endless transfers, and waiting for trains and buses.

i wore so much perfume but i sweat through it all. by the time i got to your dorm in bumfuckville nowhere, i was hot, fatigued and tired. i saw you walk back to your room where i was waiting outside, and saw a shaggy stubble, unruly dark curls in your hair. you gave me a smile, and you were wearing shorts that had your thighs out, and i instinctively moistened my mouth.

your best friend and roommate was still asleep inside. i had once had a brief tryst with him, ages ago, before i met you. i didn’t find him compatible to me, and he was a dickhead kind of. but i didn’t feel awkward to see him fast asleep half naked inside. i made myself comfortable on your bed, while you sat in the chair, and we talked in hushed voices, “you can take a nap if you want.”

“i’m tired. do you want to nap too?”, I scooted over, made a space. but you shook your head, no.

“he’s right there.”

we drifted in and out of conversations until your roommate woke up, and he joined in too. the two of you were walking in and out— laundry, brushing teeth, whatever. i laid on your pillow and looked at the white ceiling. my stomach was cramping hard, blood purging itself out of me.

A said he couldn’t make it. he wanted to sleep after his midterm instead. i was stuck with you for the whole day.

finally, your roommate left. and you came back in, with a smile to see me lying there. you reached over to turn off the fluorescent light, and there was a dark orange glow to the room. you smiled, putting on some music, and came towards me. you laid next to me, fitting your arm under my head as i turned into you. i was content to just lay there. breathe you in. but you turned to kiss me. and it all began.

“are we really doing this sober?”

ouch.

it was intense, and quick, and i was shivering so much. i think the period and eleven months of sexual tension coming to fruition made me chilled and fever-hot. we didn’t do much, because of my poorly timed biological hindrance but it was weird and cathartic and i gasped pathetic breaths. we laid down on each other after, my head on your chest, your hand in my hair.

“what are we, what is this? because i don’t want a relationship, or to be friends with benefits.” because you can never let a moment be what it is. i told you it can be whatever you want it to be. i will be leaving soon. it doesn’t matter to me. i just want to grip your body over mine or whatever as amy winehouse says. you said, “we should go eat.”

we bought some chicken and rice at the canteen next to your room, but it felt like i was shaking myself out of a dream, so i didn’t process anything. we went back to your room, put on some it’s always sunny episode on your monitor and ate. you were growing a little silent, withdrawing. i gave you the cucumbers in my rice, you fed me a spoonful of rice.

we just hung there, didn’t go anywhere else for a bit. i played your guitar, you listened. your roommate came back. you boys tried to clean. we went to watch resident evil with 7 of your friends, and i only vaguely knew a couple of them. at the train station in front of all of them, you gave me a hug. and then it was over.

i kept myself busy that weekend, working 10 hour shifts at the cinema. i cleaned the popcorn machine with my bare hands, sticking them into heavy machinery, scrubbing a sponge in boiling water and pulling them out covered in cuts just to feel something. my phone didn’t buzz once.

i sit in my art history seminar and i suddenly relive the feeling of you kissing me, just for a split second. it leaves me disoriented. i can’t help but wonder, are you feeling this too? it’s the last thing i see in my head before i go to bed. sometimes i blink and it flashes across the darkness behind my eyelids.

you don’t talk to me in the same way. you ignored me for fifteen days, leaving me on read after i drunk texted you, sexy at the weeknd concert. you fucking idiot. you text me so lacklustrely that i can’t bring myself to reply, anymore. i don’t know. i’m disappointed because you are freaking out and wasting time because no one is coaxing you out of your own damn head. i can’t help you. i want you but i don’t want all this. grow up.

whatever.