I think of you on nights like these.

Boys, boys, boys. It seems like the world of a girl anywhere between the age of 16 to 28 revolves around that main core. Boys cause so many problems and heartbreaks, yet we want them, sometimes we even need them. The sad thing is, being a girl, we are biologically more susceptible to attachment and we all know that attachments lead to disappointments and disappointments cause a throbbing mind. 

Some boys drift through your life like a breeze, barely making a presence. But you would only realise their insignificance a while after they were gone. Nostalgia sometimes plays a trick in your mind, as it is a dirty liar who insists things were better than they seemed. At the end of the day, maybe that was true. You probably had a great time, but you’ve also come to term with the fact that their chapter is closed, and you are probably so ready to start a new one. 

Some boys disguise as the man of your dream, and let me stress that again: disguise. It’s not their fault really. They probably come into your life in a phase where you decide to see the world through a pink spectacle. Everything, everyone, every thread of emotions are overly romanticised in an unhealthy way. It’s sad really, because sooner or later, the one who is at loss would still be you. You compared him to the light at the end of the tunnel. An escape. Then only to realise once you reached him that he was just a lamp.

Some boys you won’t be able to let go of. You will say his name different, like it’s safe in your mouth. If you love in waves, then each day with him would be a hurricane. Whether you’re 16, 21, 28, you will stumble upon one of them boys who will start a fire in you that cannot die. Even if you and him are no where into poems or any sentimental bullshits, yet even the way he drinks coffee knocks you the fuck out. You would crave him so constantly it became a physical ache. You find yourself yearning, and aching, and the cycle repeats. These boys are always the ones that got away. They will destroy you in the most beautiful way that is possible. And when they leave, you will understand, why storms are named after people. 

Feelings never make sense. They get you all confused and drive you around for hours until they drop you right back where you started. Although, I always want to feel everything. The beauty and terror. Afterall, no feeling is final. Yet some girls will always have their guards up. I know plenty of girls who are so afraid of getting hurt that they wouldn’t even attempt to open up to anyone. Of course someone will get hurt. Of course you will hurt each other. But that’s the very basic condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.