I don’t want to be running through your mind all day. I don’t want to hear sweet nothings. I would kill you if you tried to kiss me in the rains. I have no expectation of you professing your love to me by singing sappy love songs. I don’t want a ring on my finger. I detest the idea of taking the same old vows for better or for worse. I don’t want you to not seduce me on the first date. I hate the idea of waking up to your messages and your love struck voice notes. I don’t want to be possessive about you. I don’t want to plan what our dream house would look like. I can never be the girl who wants to hold your hand and walk across the lake. I don’t want you to cook you me my favorite meal. I won’t ever wear obnoxious lingerie to beg you to want me. I cannot be the one that you would turn to for approvals. I don’t want you to cuddle me in your arms and make mushy talks after making love. I don’t wish for you to spend your forever with me. I would disapprove of those murdered bouquets of flowers and lifeless snuggle toys. I don’t want to sit at the balconies of love filled winter mornings and listen to you do baby talk. I don’t want you to notice the way my lips open and close. I won’t get distracted by how you stare at me until I look away. I will never ever want to get carried away in the thoughts of how you’d sweep me off my feet and take me to places I’ve never been before. I will get sick if I get butterflies in my tummy thinking about how it would be when you say, ‘Hi.’ again.
I don’t want it, any of it.
But I do know of a girl who wanted the clichés. I feel scared of her. As much as I pity her foolishness, I am haunted by the echoes of her deafening death cries. I have seen her crossing the mile from hell to heaven in my dormiveglia. I shut my door on her when she was burning – inside out. I have mocked her resilience and perseverance. Her love for clichés has now left her fragrance in the remains of stardust.And guess what happened to her. She died. Her own cliché killed her.
But who cares? She was naive and blonde and vulnerable .
I’m not her. I never will be. I am a girl consumed by wanderlust. But I’m happy with my hate for clichés. Or at least someday, just to disgrace her, I will be!