Life with you is like listening to ‘Despacito’; I don’t understand shit but I kinda like it. How many times have I tried singing along! If only I spent that time in improving myself or trying to understand you. Well I know both the attempts are futile but still worth a shot. Right??
I don’t understand why I keep asking you trivial stuff, maybe you’re glad because even you know deep inside that you do not have a legit reason or an answer for deep shit. Every time you argue with me, it feels like Daddy Yankee’s yelling right into my ears in Spanish. I wish I spoke that language. Our argument is like a separate universe, never ending, always surprising and impossible to comprehend.
But you know I love you, don’t you (not romantically)? Now I really wish you don’t because I know you don’t give a flying duck and it’s humiliating. Even though I admit that there are feelings down there somewhere, rotting in the corner, I refuse to express. Why do you treat me like a fly on your ice cream? You just swat me away. Is my buzz that annoying? Have I ever complained about what a mosquito you’ve been to my emotions? Yeah, I know, I’m glad you didn’t give me malaria.
The last time we met, I still remember choking on over spiced fried rice with burnt chicken. You gobbled it up like cheesecake. You expect me to remember the last goodbyes? Nah! The chicken was better. I thought blindness was when you couldn’t see anything but you redefined it when you could see nothing but yourself. You think I miss you? The world doesn’t revolve around you, babe.
Why am I writing this now? Because I don’t know. Neither do you. Let it be this way.
Let the hate be mutual.
(Why don’t you let the duck fly?)