For the second time.
I wanted to do it for third,
And the fourth
And the fifth.
He kissed me for the sixth time,
And the seventh.
We paused at the eighth,
or maybe it was the ninth.
I had lost count by then
We were too invested in the night
By the tenth kiss
frantically searched for a place
to call home.
Eleventh Twelfth and Thirteenth kiss merged in to one
My hands had fallen on to his heaving chest
just enough to feel his heart thud and hammer against his rib cage
His hands sought refuge on my thighs
that had started to feel like a fire-place;
warm and comforting.
We stopped before the twentieth kiss
Aware of our pounding hearts and the scars on his neck
Aware of the beginnings of a sun rise through the curtains
Aware of reality outside the door.
I don’t want to grow up. It’s scary. The idea of living by myself, studying or working or even both, scares me. The idea of being away from home scares me. The idea of doing all the grown up stuff that adults do, scares me. The idea of grocery shopping and buying other household items scares me. The idea of being independent shakes me. Every child wants to grow up. Every wants to leave their parents protective nest and fly away. Every child dreams of being an adult and doing your own things, going wherever you want to. Every child dreams of this. Of freedom. I did too. At one time I wasn’t scared of the one thing i was looking forward to. I was ecstatic at the idea of living alone, being independent and standing on my own two feet. Something’s changed. And I’m not looking forward to it anymore. I’m scared. Those dreams, those hopes of wanting to be grown up seem very silly now. The idea of loving someone that you met as a stranger, the idea of dating people you never knew scares me. The idea of one day having to settle down and start a family, petrifies me. One would think that the older you get, the more enthusiastic you become as you approach adulthood. I am excited about standing on my own two feet. It IS the RIGHT time. But am I ready to? No. Not as much as i thought i was. Life’s unfair. We all agreed and have come to terms to accept that one fact that we hoped was a lie. But why do we still complain? I don’t want to grow up and do things that an adult does. It’s scary. I don’t want to be called an ‘adult’. It’s a scary word. There are loads of responsibilities and strings attached to that 5 letter word. Those 5 letters makes a huge difference to life and how we’re supposed to approach it. What if I’m not ready to leave my teenage years? What if I don’t want to? Does it matter? No. Because it happens anyways. Whether i like it or not. Some part of me IS looking forward to the future. But the other isn’t. And I’m scared to think which one is bigger. So I’m hoping for the best.