Busy Being Lazy

I feel so lazy today that I just have to open Gmail and blog. I do not view my blog site at work and I have been sticking to it for 2 years and a few months. Coming from someone like me who loves my blog so much, it is an achievement to not even have a peep at it at work.

That’s because I’m afraid that “the others” will find out and read me. I used to rant a lot about work that I couldn’t help not doing because each time I sit in front of the computer and with my fingers over the keyboard, I just cannot stop whatever that’s coming out of my mind, my mouth, my head…and errr…fingers.

Now, I don’t rant about work as much as I do. I think I have not rant about work for a while now. And I’m happy about that because I’m keeping my word. I once told myself not to write about work anymore. So that would mean I’d have to write about other things. So far, I still have something to write about even though now I feel like I’m not writing something substantial. I don’t even know what you call this piece of writing.

But I do know, you people, you like love stories. In fact, the most commented entries are the ones which I reveal more about the private and personal side of which I wasn’t planning to reveal. Because it just felt….weird and too personal to bare. Like I’m not even sure if people out there would want to read if I’ve been kissed.

So I tried to deliver it in a different way. Instead of saying he kissed me, which is so direct and so not fun. I said he planted something on my lips. And I mean…planting something on my lips…can mean so many things depending on how imaginative you can get. Plant flowers on my lips maybe?

I don’t write to please everyone, although sometimes I try to. And sometimes I can get too honest, I’d like to tell the world everything. YET, the most important reason of all is that I do not want to forget being planted something on the lips by him. And that is why I wrote what I wrote, along with the other things that may seem unimportant to you but are very important to me.

Because no one is ever going to do that to me again, in that way, that time of the day, at that place. We may not be an item in most people’s eyes. Not that we are an item yet. You feel that way when you have people telling you to “get a life” and to “get someone better”. And you know you should and you can but you just don’t want to because you just love to get stuck with that person, though you don’t exactly know why.

Well, actually, you do know why but you just can’t believe it can be so simple. Because everytime he calls, my heart beats. Because everytime we eat out, he would always chopstick some food onto my plate and the process continues until he’s sure that I’m full and well-fed. I don’t expect someone to do that you see. So when someone does that to me, its effect is so great that I can smile just looking at my fork. Why is it that when my mum does this to me I feel mortified but when he does it to me, I feel like I’m in heaven?

He makes me feel like a lady.

Another thing I discovered about myself is that I’m easily moved by little things, little actions as compared to anything big. Like when we are in the lift and then a stranger comes to join us in the lift, he holds my waist and pulls me nearer to him, as if he’s afraid this stranger will kidnap and eat me alive, I feel that I’m loved and that he actually loves me. This happened in the yesteryear but is so vividly imprinted in my head, along with many other little things which I can’t possibly list them all out because that would be so not fun. He indeed gave me so many little things to think about.

I am poisoned.

So if one day when it’s the end of the world because he doesn’t love me anymore, I’d still be very happy because of the little things he once did to me.

Sometimes I’m also afraid that my heart will only beat for him, even when he doesn’t love me anymore.

I really need to get back to work.