So called Inspiration.

The tear drop in her eyes. The cold walks in the night. The straight faced and meaningless glances. Those looks and those smiles. Maybe it would work. Maybe not. Maybe it's confusion or maybe it's nothing. When you stop making sense, you should just stop writing. And yet you continue. Coz senseless things hold on to deeper meanings. And when you begin to wonder, what hearts are made of, you begin to ask. What are stars made of? Gas? or wishes?

When you wish upon a star at this age, you tell yourself, you're way too old for it. Then you dream of Peter Pan coming and making you fly. Only, you have to look for Peter Pan yourself, in reality that is. Not someone dressed as him in a costume party and not someone who tries to act like him. But someone who makes you feel that it's him. When you watch outside your window, with the moist and tears of the sky. You step out, barefoot with your white cotton dress. You discover that the thoughts in your mind meant more than what you think it should. And when you see that, you don't know what to do. When you believe in nothing else but finding the pixie dust, your escape from the world or reality. The step into denial and taking a walk, way longer than expected. When you start thinking of what to say when he asks you certain questions. When you dodge off glances from one to another, and when you smile just coz he looked. What about when he makes you laugh without even trying? Or when he makes you happy when you're sad. Or when he just makes you feel warm and comfortable compared to any other guy you knew. Maybe when you close your eyes, you tell yourself never to wake up again, because for now, reality ain't better than the ones created by you. In a stage of denial and running away, when you feel like no one else would understand or there won't be any friend that would nodd with you, you walk and talk to yourself. Coz when you don't make sense, it's you who understands. When your eyes tend to close out of nowhere, it's when you know, something's wrong.

Do I miss him? I dunno. Did I miss you? I dunno.

Answers to questions a heart has, its hard to breathe and its hard to think. Coz questions like these need a reflex answer. And right now, my reflex are off duty.