My favourite day is Friday, and not Saturday, nor Sunday.
Where I get to end my day without thinking of anything about the day after.
I always end my day with sitting alone, booking a certain meeting room for hours if I’m at the office, or just simply writing things at my desk if I’m home.
It’s not so much that Friday night is perfect that makes me love it.
Although, it undeniably is– the peace I get at Friday night is just awesome.
What makes my time at that moment so addictive and lovely to me is how peaceful the energy inside me is, that there is something about it that makes it pure.
There’s something about it– some energy that draws out good in people.
Maybe it’s simple, as simple as because the day after is weekend and people would actually be temporarily released from their daily busyness, but there’s something about Friday night that is kind of good and enchanting that makes you want to be fully unleash yourself at that very time.
I’m not saying that people can’t be naturally good, they could– we could.
Let me say that everyone has the capacity to be deeply good.
But it’s just all our shit that gets in the way and makes us hard.
For example, our packed schedules, our overthinking, our shitty habits, and so on.
We do live in a modern era that moves so fast, and faster now than ever before.
Especially with so many things grabbing our attention all the time.
Our inbox e-mails, social media notifications, texts, and even all the advertisement on our internet screens and ads on the side of the road.
It’s as if we are constantly encouraged to speed up, or at the very least we are constantly encouraged to keep up with everyone else.
And, sadly, so rarely do we find ourselves willing to slow down.
Like in her case, she always thinks that she does not have plenty of time.
I know that we have a lot of reasons for not wanting to slow down.
Slowing down, at times, can be painful.
It forces us to confront and sit with things that we would rather not shine a light on– that we have kept hidden so well all this time.
Yes, it puts us squarely in the present, the exact here and now, the only place where life is ever truly happening, and sometimes that clarity is more kindness and compassion than we’re comfortable giving to ourselves.
But the thing about slowing down is that it’s the only way to tap into who we really are, and thus, the only way to tap into that goodness too;
The kind that feels rare and incandescent when we encounter it in others;
The kind that we might secretly wonder if we could ever truly possess ourselves.
I think there are places in the world– in our reality, that help us slow down– that teach us of our own goodness– and that these places are the ones that we most need to carve out time to visit, that it becomes our sort of moral duty.
Because these are the places that help us experience awe and wonder, and really, fully breathe, and shed our egoistic mind– the part of us that is on overdrive and self-absorbed, that constantly worries and dwells.
There are places that make us kinder and more forgiving– they make us softer with the people we care about and with ourselves– we emerge from them more gentle.
And, as stupid as this sounds, this place, for me, right now, is my room.
Because it is not all about the place, it is about things that we do and the things that we dare and willing to perceive when we are in that place.
On another days, as in weekdays, I do bury myself within my work.
At weekdays, as I race through my days on overdrive, I know and I am aware that I isolate myself more and more, creating a belief of perceived difference between me and people around me that I encounter every single day.
To me, the gentleness I experienced when I slow down, is my most authentic and my most truthful state.
I know when I remind myself of my own goodness, I allow myself to see it more and more in others– I know that I give myself the space to experience the simple realization that we are all more similar than we are different.
That we are more connected than separate.
And that we yield a far more powerful belief in oneness.
But what is perhaps most magical and most important is how much more we tend to like ourselves when we are in this being honest state– this version of ourselves.
I feel like I am the closest to the person I want to be when I am at this state.
I feel like, whenever I emerge from it, I smile, and I say hi to people more.
And I will give out positive feelings more freely.
And, I could say that I do notice all the beauty around me that I typically sprint straight by because of the amount of work that I prioritize at weekdays.
In that solitude– in that space, it’s just so safe to be open and kind and patient to myself– that it’s safe to feel the love that I have for her instead of work, criticism, worries, fear, cynicism, sadness, and sorrow.
Isn’t that what we all want most– to know that it is just safe to not have to walk around with our full-plate heavy armor made of whatever it is that we wear everyday?
That we want to know that inside us, at our innermost core, we are truly and profoundly good, and that we have choice to access that part of ourselves everyday?
And, think about it: all we have to do is just slow the hell down.
Yet, for me, the love that I feel is overwhelming.
Oftentimes, for me, that love takes control of all of me.
Oftentimes, when I am being open to myself, I realize in the most honest form that I have to open up the cage that I put on my heart at weekdays.
And, when it breaks loose, the surge is immense.
I have loved a lot of things during my life.
Name it, name anything from simple old book to the most luxurious thing that I have.
Yet nothing has been the kind of love that I have for her, or the love that she gave back to me– that left me with a question I never wanted to ask:
What happens when you love a specific person even more than your passion?
Or rather– what do you do when a person IS your passion?
Maybe it’s too late for me.
I am deeply and madly in love, and knowing her, she’s just the best.
She’s beautiful, driven, kind, just the kind of girl I wouldn’t settle for less.
And in that place, in that seclusion, I have finally figured it out.
I’ve figured out the thing I want for life.
It is not writing, poetry, posts, adventures, or whatever it is bullshit that 20s trying to fulfill in their life– not even the goddamn work.
It’s loving her– it’s her.
The only thing I’ve ever wanted is her.
Go on, call me idiot on putting you as my passion and dream.
But how could I stop that when you are just so lovely, and just so adorable?
If you ask in what aspect, then I would say every single thing that you have.
You look adorable when you laugh– when you give me a polite smile, because you didn’t think my joke was funny, or when I say something hysterical, but you don’t want to admit it, so you try your hardest to keep your laughter caged in your throat, only showing a hint of a smirk.
You look adorable when you are making a goofy face at the camera that no other person would consider cute– know that I think it’s all gorgeous.
Of course, Because it’s all you.
You look so lovely when you just get excited about something.
Anything– a book, a music, a video, a game, a random brochure, foods, whatever, it’s just does not matter what it is– it’s just doesn’t matter whether I could follow a word of what you are saying to me at that time.
I could and I would listen to you blab about it all day long.
I could listen, even if I genuinely did not care about the topic.
Because I do, care about you, your energy, and your happiness.
Most importantly, I do care about that smile of yours.
Another time, you look so dazzling when we simply lock eyes.
When you first see me and gave me that shy smile of yours at the airport, and told me about how beautiful the moment was without even saying the words to me.
When you glanced down at my lips as if you were inviting me in for a kiss.
Or when you simply nod your head along to whatever it is that I am saying, listening as intently as you can, even if I know you couldn’t possibly fully care about the boring and tedious things that I am rambling on about.
At times like this, you just look lovely when I picture you in my head.
Don’t get me wrong, the reality about you never disappoints me.
But you just always look just as stunning face-to-face as you do in my dreams and my fantasies, no matter how much I build you up in my head, nothing ever knocks the image down– you keep raising your pedestal higher and higher inside my heart.
You keep making me want you more without you even doing anything.
And, Love, the most adorable of all, is when you are writing.
When you write and pour out all the feelings that you have to the papers.
When you were sad, worried, filled with fear, or even filled with love.
You, with that stupid grin of yours that only you could have in this world.
You, with every word that you have that you’ve etched in your papers.
I read, and feel the words too many times.
Too profound, and too potent, that they pierce my heart again and again.
But I am willing be killed by the things that I love.
And do know that one of those things is you along with your words.
Know that it is my desire to be killed by you– that I live at the edge of your pen.