• about me
  • menu
  • categories
  • Patricia

    Patricia

    Majority of my friends call me Trish, I guess you could call me that too. I'm a transcriptions editor with a really messed up body clock and never ending affinity for films, food and written words. I like street art, sweets, neutrals and monochromes, sushi, window seats, golf carts and lazy weekends.

    Some of the things that completely preoccupy me are my fixation with the now defunct The Civil Wars and their beautiful art of sadness, Oh Sehun, sleeping, CSS and HTML, @iameden, and those damn hypnotizing Tasty videos. Top country in my travel bucketlist? Iceland. But the one that will always have my heart? Hong Kong.

    After-Summer Love Letter

    (Just a heads up: This is a slightly cheesy, gooey post.)

    The thing is, this feels like the first rain after the most agonizing summer. If you think about it, I should have been used to the feverish temperatures because we all grew up to this. A few months of scorching heat that I've always had a love-hate relationship with. But something has changed. The summertime that just passed was unusually different from the rest. But everything's okay now. Everything's washed away, everything feels fresh.

    I never quite figured out how to go about this because I was used to things being always tricky, chaotic and filled with mindfuckery. I must have been out of my mind to think that great happiness can only be felt after great pain. It was the only thing I've ever known. I thought it should always consume your soul and make you feel like you're always out of breath. I thought there should always be mud stains and scrapes on your knees and bruises that are still blue, and adrenaline rushes that turns a part of yourself dead, but somehow, it still left you wanting more. Exhilarating but leaves you empty.

    But this.
    This is unexpected.

    I saw your face and thought of what I might need to go through again. Because for the past several years, there was always a catch. Always. It never misses. It might have something to do with my choices, as a friend once said. (But I have been trying so hard not to wander down the same path.) So I wondered, "What's the catch this time?"

    But love, you are without a catch. Bless the heavens because I never thought that was even possible. Sure, you have this odd (sometimes irritating) way of spelling words when you send me text messages but it's fine. It's something I can live with. You are that Sunday morning that I dreamt about before constantly. Warm early morning sunlight through window panes with the lightest music playing. You snore, I giggle. You are the funny, comforting feeling when I see a dress in my favorite color, or when a film somehow took words out of my mouth (or my mind). You are the story I will never get tired of telling everyone. You are the last bite of my favorite chocolate bar. You are those moments when I just want to lay still on the living room floor and stare at the ceiling. You are the uncomplicated truth. You are the gust of air that I exhaled as I slowly descend underwater. That calm moment when I realize I am not drowning. You are when I let my hair down after a tiring day. You are those weekends when I want nothing but to wear a big shirt and stay under the sheets.

    All the blues and sleepless nights and crazy eights and push and pulls seem so distant now. Thank you for not asking me to lose myself, even just a little.

    I'll see you soon.

    (Just a heads up: This is a slightly cheesy, gooey post.)

    The thing is, this feels like the first rain after the most agonizing summer. If you think about it, I should have been used to the feverish temperatures because we all grew up to this. A few months of scorching heat that I've always had a love-hate relationship with. But something has changed. The summertime that just passed was unusually different from the rest. But everything's okay now. Everything's washed away, everything feels fresh.

    I never quite figured out how to go about this because I was used to things being always tricky, chaotic and filled with mindfuckery. I must have been out of my mind to think that great happiness can only be felt after great pain. It was the only thing I've ever known. I thought it should always consume your soul and make you feel like you're always out of breath. I thought there should always be mud stains and scrapes on your knees and bruises that are still blue, and adrenaline rushes that turns a part of yourself dead, but somehow, it still left you wanting more. Exhilarating but leaves you empty.

    But this.
    This is unexpected.

    I saw your face and thought of what I might need to go through again. Because for the past several years, there was always a catch. Always. It never misses. It might have something to do with my choices, as a friend once said. (But I have been trying so hard not to wander down the same path.) So I wondered, "What's the catch this time?"

    But love, you are without a catch. Bless the heavens because I never thought that was even possible. Sure, you have this odd (sometimes irritating) way of spelling words when you send me text messages but it's fine. It's something I can live with. You are that Sunday morning that I dreamt about before constantly. Warm early morning sunlight through window panes with the lightest music playing. You snore, I giggle. You are the funny, comforting feeling when I see a dress in my favorite color, or when a film somehow took words out of my mouth (or my mind). You are the story I will never get tired of telling everyone. You are the last bite of my favorite chocolate bar. You are those moments when I just want to lay still on the living room floor and stare at the ceiling. You are the uncomplicated truth. You are the gust of air that I exhaled as I slowly descend underwater. That calm moment when I realize I am not drowning. You are when I let my hair down after a tiring day. You are those weekends when I want nothing but to wear a big shirt and stay under the sheets.

    All the blues and sleepless nights and crazy eights and push and pulls seem so distant now. Thank you for not asking me to lose myself, even just a little.

    I'll see you soon.

    . Saturday, June 14, 2014 .

    No comments

    Post a Comment

    popular posts