Contented

I have always been somewhat of a clean freak. My desire to be neat and clean has transgressed with time into a fetish. I believe my parents must have been as pleased as they were puzzled at their more diminutive son’s reticence to allow dirt house room. There is a certain allergy to impurities that give me goosebumps, induce me to wash, to bathe and to clean. My conviction was so stalwart that no amount of calluses and chastisements could have forced me to desist in my efforts.

Being neat has rendered me resistant to any big changes. Yet my life is anything but boring and mundane. My epiphanies have been many. They are the result of long periods of solitude and silence. They come almost everytime I clear my mind. And the source of my inspiration? I think it has to do with some kind of obsession with trying to link and associate everything together. I look at the clowd and maybe I see a circus, maybe I see a beautiful face or maybe I see the sun hiding behind it like a shy baby.

My lifetime has been short but eventful. I have travelled to many places, seen many things and dreamed every night. Yet, I stumple to pinpoint a single time as my defining moment. I say this because my life with you in it was not made of days and nights, not marked by dusk and dawn. Life is a single stream of consciousness, with integrity as the cornerstone of its beauty.

More than anything, we were content in each other’s company. Being content is the foundation of a long-lasting relationship. Yes, this was an epiphany too. It made monotony bearable. It made life fulfilling and enjoyable. It made the world beautiful. And the day I saw you, waves and waves of ephiphanies consumed me.

And being content is taking whatever dirty laundry you have. Maybe I will get it cleaned today. Or maybe tomorrow. In that sense, you took away my fetish and made me less of a freak.