Love.

A very short story that I just wrote a few minutes ago.

He looked on as people, young and old, strolled by him. Some were holding hands and others held their dog’s leash, but all came to enjoy their afternoon. The young man was tall and slender, with dark brown eyes and hair that was only a touch lighter. His hand brushed his chin where he had a small yet deep cut, obtained while shaving earlier that day. He had agreed to meet his love interest here, but she was running a bit late. His eyes drifted past all the faces of women as they passed by, but not one had proven to be hers. As he stared out the park gate and crossed his arms to protect from the chilly breeze, he hoped that he hadn’t been stood up. A hand slipped into his pocket to check his phone for the time, but it did not seem to pass at all. The phone disappeared into the same pocket, and an mp3-player appeared from another one. The earplugs were guided into place, for he wished the music would make time flow and bring her to him just a bit sooner.

A full hour later he still stood there, feigning to have faith in the girl’s swift arrival. Just when he had decided to quickly get a drink at the store across the street, he felt two arms reaching around his sides and pulling him back. The adolescent man smiled as he turned around, so that her beauty might grace his eyes. His arms followed her example and hugged back, and his head leaned down for his lips to meet hers. When his fingers traced from her back to her sides and tickled her, she couldn’t help but giggle and pushed him back. The grin on the man’s face then turned into a warm smile, as he studied her appearance. Her long brown hair fell just past her shoulders, and her big eyes reminded him of a song by Van Morrison. She was about a head shorter than him, but almost equally slim. Her body was covered in a simple light blue dress that slightly accented her curves, making the girl even more beautiful to his eyes. After looking at her a little while longer, the male reached out for her hand and pulled her into his arms once more. This time it was the girl’s mouth that reached for his, and they engaged into a long and tender kiss. This was love. Nothing but pure, sweet, healing and timeless love.

Looking Up.

“Thick gray steam rises from within the small bathroom, and within a man leans against a tile shower wall, head down and eyes closed. Water cascades over his form, and he wishes it would wash away dark. If only he could see the bad dreams swirling around the drain to eventually wash away. His skin is pink from the heat, and yet he still doesn’t move. “ … “Both his arms are resting on the tile above his head” … “His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s been in here quite a while.”

- Excerpts from a short story written by my dear friend, Amber.

There’s a reason why I started today’s blog with those fragments; They describe me perfectly. Well, my shower ritual that is. The shower is sacred to me. It’s where I get my ideas, let go of my emotions and finally restrain them again for the following day. It’s where my mind is totally at ease, and I can put things into perspective. In retrospect to my whole life, no other place has ever given me this kind of spiritual freedom. But alright, on with the show.

Yesterday I had a girl over at my house, well actually, in the wagon. Nothing happened, but it was nice seeing someone else than family and co-workers for a change. It’s been a week and a half since Cindy and I broke up, and until yesterday she was the last person I voluntarily laid eyes upon. Anyway, Claudia and I had heaps of fun, and I hope we can do this again. Although my mother seemed to be convinced that she was my new girlfriend, at which I just shrugged. Never cared about her opinion anyway. Another great thing about getting in touch with Claudia again: We might record a duet together. Though I’m hard headed and don’t believe my voice is anywhere near good enough, I’ve accepted her offer. And I’m secretly very excited. Well, not so secretly anymore now.

A couple of weeks ago, I ordered a few shirts from DistrictLines. Well, they still haven’t come in yet. One of the shirts has the pre-sale status even though sale started on 7-11. And it says on their site that, even without delay, international shipment can take up to 4 weeks, but I’m growing slightly impatient.
How fucking long can it take to get a piece of cotton in stock?

Well, this has been a short blog, with short paragraphs. If they’re even worth that title.
I hope this entry finds all readers in good health, and a positive state of mind.

See you on the flipside.

Marth

PS: Check out LastOfTheNarwhals.
It’s the vlog channel of another dear friend. I think she’s doing an amazing job so far, and I’m certain she’ll become even better.