Quicksand

Yesterday I asked someone I met on Hinge what they hated, well in general and after answering, to my surprise they did not retort with an excruciating WBU but with a “Tell me what you find difficult” to which the spirit of Aristarch that possesses me said ‘myself’. Though it wasn't an earth shattering conversation, the question locked me out at night. Maybe also because I realised I was out of my audiobook subscription and those tiny pink pills.

Thinking ‘Difficult’ was so subjective. Like math for me was a ghastly can of worms but for my mathematician ex-girlfriend it was like snatching candy from a baby kinda easy.

I digress, but when do I not. My mind went bean planting to an extent that I finally made a list. Oh, lists. Lists are everywhere. One in my wallet, one in my coat pocket, one as a bookmark inside the book I’m reading, one crumbled on my nightstand, one under the half used scented candle that I hated. You see? A list about lists.

Scrawled my thoughts down only for the list to end up under my bed somewhere filling time with the habitue monster already living down under.

Difficult things and People

Clicking good pictures of the moon / keeping a plant alive / Jungkook pronouncing frustrated / making appointments over the phone / tying a sailor’s hitch / my best friend drawing a picture of a dog / trying not to jump puddles in monsoon / my ex changing lightbulbs / Watching ‘This is us’ without crying / picking birthday presents for my father / navigating through flyovers from google maps / Mike Flanagan making a show without lesbians / writing birthday messages / replying to birthday messages / holding back a ‘thats what she said’ joke / coming back to work after a vacation / eating a soup dumpling the right way / texting while going down the stairs / Playing Cloud Atlas theme on piano / keeping promises / waiting for the sunrise / falling out of love / loving me.