The idea of Stoicism was introduced to me in school, 9th or 10th, I suppose. Never knew I'd remember Marcus Brutus for a reason such as this, but I don't really restrain myself with reason, just dwindle at both ends of head and heart. A balance is a distant desire. The serotonin could drop, and no one would know. The oxytocin could fall, and I’d still wake with the will to go through the day with the same vigor.
I don’t desire the intoxication of the butterflies in my stomach; not the sudden getaways for romantic rendezvous on unplanned trips; not the silent drives in the twilight times, when nothing needs to be said, just felt; not the nights spent on the roof of a car counting stars; not the weekender blurs where you dance to EDM with strangers and gulp down on fancy cough syrup tasting cocktails.
What I think I want is quiet, calm and peace, as our favourite music plays in the background; our hands hopefully intertwined, or just your head on my arm would do fine. Maybe a chance to kiss your forehead once in a while for as long as I want; random binge watching, munching on anything we can get our hands on. The food served or maybe delivered on time; shirts that fit my shoulders and arms well, or t-shirts big enough to fit both of us.
Some moments every now and then when I could feel that you're tangible. When you could stimulate my senses. When I could see, feel, smell and hear you. Taste the back of your hand when I kiss it. Hear you laugh in the next room; play with your hair; brush them aside when the wind blows them on my face.
Give me the cringeworthy cliches - all of them. Everything else seems too hard; too tiring; time taking. The new places make me feel strange alone; the out of the box and adventurous for the heck of it now gives ache. I couldn't care less what the others want - followers; group trips every 4-6 months; getting tattoos together; being swiped right by strangers; matching t-shirts; selfies on a beach sipping mojitos or popping beer; movie hall pictures with 3D glasses on. Nothing.
Don't give me happiness. I won't recognise it in its truest form. A little sadness should do just fine. Few comforting words, here and there; sudden calls, random fights and sometimes, gooey tenderness. Voice notes with nothing in them. Pictures of what you loathed to eat in the afternoon. Laughter in right doses; smiles too if possible. Nothing too brittle; nothing too destructible. The cackle of your breaking voice as you struggle to control your laughter while acting out another almost funny movie scene. The disappointment when I don't catch-up a stand-up narrative. And lastly that eye roll that I can see through the phone. Just give me what you can afford for now and I'll make happiness for both out of it.
- Sarthak Kulshreshtha