I fell in love with so many things about you. One of them was the way you listened to me. With utmost respect, undivided attention. In a way that made me feel heard. Like my story mattered. Even when I was speaking gibberish, you'd sit there smiling. You'd laugh at my scoldings, smile at my rants. I was amazed and confused at your patience. Long after our conversations ended, and you probably would've been off to sleep, I'd lay awake wondering why were you listening to me in the first place. Why were you so curious about me, my life, my likes, dislikes... the stray dog I fed on the street, my chance encounter with an annoying school friend... why would you spend hours asking questions, digging deeper. I had never spoken so much to anyone in my life. Not even to myself. I spoke until I was tired, until I was empty, until I was repeating the same stories... and it's embarrassing how you listened to those repeating stories as well, without ever telling me to stop. It's only when you started completing those stories, that I realized I had been narrating the same event twice, thrice to you. The way you listened to me, was love. And I fell in love with you... and the way you loved.
You have this seemingly insatiable hunger for something. Probably an infinite hole in your soul. Call it hunger, call it thirst... but you've been searching for something. Feeling empty. This melancholy has been pervasive, perennial... seemingly eternal. And you go on trying to fill it with whatever you find. Whatever your soul, your mind, your heart, your body can grasp. You treat your tongue, you pleasure your body and stimulate your senses in all possible ways. You go reckless and pour into yourself... both poison and potion. Whiskey on Saturday nights, cigarette smoke in weekday lunch breaks... food laden with fat and meat... and sex with a stranger... paid service. And while you do all of it to yourself... your soul, looks and waits... patiently... for you to wake up from your sleep. Because that's all it'll take... to quench that thirst, satiate that hunger... stitch that gaping hole.