My Soliloquy

It's a dark, gloomy day. The sky is covered with massive grey clouds, and it's pouring. People are running past me, some with umbrellas, some covering their heads with anything from hoodies to plastic bags. But I sit under a barren tree, drenched in rain. I love the rain; it makes my heart sing. Rainy days like this one are the best days for writing my emotions, for bringing out the poet in me. There is an inexplicable magic to such days that makes me whimsical and expressive, yet with a touch of melancholy. And when it rains, some supernatural power forces me to go wild with reckless abandon, not caring about getting my clothes or hair wet or catching a cold.  So when it rains and others stay indoors in the warmth of their homes, I venture outside.

I’m sitting on the east side of Regent’s Park, outside a tall graceful building. It is the middle of March, and it is chilly and windy. I can hear the pitter-patter of rain as it falls from the barren branches of the tree. I could sit here all day and watch the clouds drift by. I close my eyes and hold my face up to the sky, wiping away the water collecting in and around my eyes. Amamoh calls me ‘dangerously emancipated.’ If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him, I tell him with a smile.

I stare at the large window panes of the Victorian apartment where I want to make my home with Amamoh. In a neighborhood full of buildings that house royals and aristocrats, the architecture and provenance of this particular building are extraordinary. I especially want this apartment because of the massive glass windows overlooking the glorious park. Amamoh promised to buy this house for me because he knows what I love - besides him, of course. He knows what makes me alive. He knows I love storms, rains, snowfalls, clouds, flowers, bare trees and fierce gusts of wind rattling the window panes on stormy nights. While he doesn’t approve of my peculiar fondness for severe weather, he doesn’t want to deprive me of what makes me happy. He wants me to take joy in it while sitting in the safety of our home, wrapped in his arms. I would love to be in his arms even in thunderous, pouring rain, or trapped in an icy blizzard with no shelter. What could be more beautiful than being in his arms? Nothing. All my fantasies come to life in his arms.

At times Amamoh and I argue and fight, and it’s mostly because I am in the wrong for some reason, but he knows many ways to make me smile.  He swallows his pride, and makes me smile by booking a ballet performance for the weekend and forwarding the confirmation to me on WhatsApp, winking at me from across the room. At that moment I know he loves me and he knows I’m thinking only about him. That’s when I run into his arms and tear up, apologizing for my stupidity. His gentle hug becomes tighter. He leans his head against me, nuzzling his face against mine. He doesn't often use words to express his love; I just feel it in my heart. I read it in his touch, in his eyes, in his smile. Even if loving me in that moment means surrendering to my unreasonable emotional demands. When I sneak up behind him and snake my arms around him, he knows it's because I love him with all my heart. He knows he makes my life beautiful with his love.

The rain is coming down harder, but I find myself drowning in my own thoughts. The roaring of the rain talks to me. I can talk down to thunder and lightning because they are what evoke these storms inside me, then break me down. I feel a connection to the elements deep within my soul. I want to run barefoot in the woods on stormy nights. I want to sit in the snow and feel the warmth that snowfall brings to my heart. I find the sound of thunder therapeutic. I feel so utterly alive during a thunderstorm. I want to sit on Amamoh's lap and watch the storm unfold in front of me while resting my head on his chest. The sound of rain and thunder in his arms together with his heartbeat gives me a rush of adrenaline unlike any other.

It has taken me many days to write this blog. I was stuck between love and the pain that love brings. Falling in love is not a choice. It just happens, and the heart does not know the difference between right and wrong. It seeks its own pursuit of happiness regardless of the consequences. I am concluding this blog amidst a snowstorm, sitting in the same spot where I started it. It’s a silent evening in Regent’s Park. The ground is cloaked in a gorgeous blanket of snow. I am currently feeling a rush of pleasure at the gorgeous sights that surround me, but I know the high will come crashing down when I’m in a feeling of despair. The frozen surroundings warm my heart in such a way that it fails to freeze, no matter how much I try to harden it.

“Amamoh, I want to watch meteor shower from a hilltop. Will you take me to watch the Perseids this summer?”
I ask while gently running my palm on his face. He smiles.

“I want to watch the comet take a cosmic dip on the earthlings with you. Doesn't that sound romantic, Amamoh?” I whisper, leaning back into his arms. He chuckles. He knows his presence brings me smiles. He knows his love is my lifeline. I breathe because I love him, and he knows it.

My eyes sparkle like a thousand stars when he makes me feel loved. I love myself when he folds me in his warm and close embrace; this is where my whole world lies. I cling to him like a baby because I fear losing him. My insecurities constantly overshadow my dreams. I don’t want to let them overwhelm me, but the thought of losing him pains me to my core. I cannot envision a life without him.

Amamoh is not my ideal. He doesn’t have to be perfect either. For me, "perfect" is not about looks and money or status. For me, it is a person who understands the language of love that I speak, and can communicate in the same language. For me, Amamoh has always been an irresistible fascination. He inspires absolute confidence in me. I always knew I was destined to love him. He stirs the deepest cords of my heart. He feeds my romantic fantasies with all his grace and composure. He’s the protagonist of my mundane life.  He lets me express myself freely, without inhibitions. Amamoh is aware of my allusions. He knows an expressive girl like me has a passion for ballets and operas. If such things could so easily be understood there would be no music, no dance, no paintings or poetry.

My Amamoh appreciates my expressive qualities and despite initially opposing the idea of my expression, he let me pour my heart out into words and in an unspoken language. He now knows that repressing my emotions will only hurt me.

If you love someone, tell them. Even if it’s not right, tell them. Even if you think it will leave you miserable, tell them, say it loud and say it again and again. You will never regret loving too much if you love unconditionally. Don’t worry about what can go wrong, just listen to your heart. I celebrate and cherish the moments I have spent in love with Amamoh. I was oblivious to what life actually meant before I fell in love with him. He might not be mine, but his love makes me who I am. Isn’t it romantic to know that someone is going to love you unconditionally? Even if you know from the beginning that you are not meant to be together, go for it.  Because there's no controlling that heart of yours. Love can leave your heart and soul in pieces, shatter you more and more every second, but you can’t stop your heart. Don’t ever question why you’re putting yourself through this torture, because the answer is quite simple: “they put life in you even with all the pain.”

The storm has subsided into a steady, gentle snowfall. My thoughts whirl through my mind like a snowstorm as I stare at the Victorian building, the snowflakes floating down past the large glass windows of my fantasy home in tandem with the tears that trickle down my face. I can’t have Amamoh, but he will stay with me wherever I go. For he is my life and my reason to smile.

The man I love is a man after my own heart. My Amamoh. And my life will forever be brighter because of him.