First Period in discipline.

Self realization in a troubled world.

There is a man out there that I know, and there are some statistical chances that you know him too. As the story goes, you might think that I am here to tell you that I want him. His body, his mind, his smile, his jokes, and you might even think that my mind grind into a halt because I am limited to the brain that nature gave me, that me, being infatuated was just a natural response, some sort of physiological reflex, some sort of normalized response to him, some sort of mother nature trick toward the whole him. But this is not one of these stories.

No. This is not. 

I am not even here to tell you that I knew what was going to happen. What was going to happen? That I got to know him. But maybe this is too soon for me to tell you that, and I should restrain myself from saying that I got to second base. What I can assure you is that my skin does not sparkle if it is hit by some rays of sunshine and that I am not a shape shifter either. 

Just like your father, just like your mother, I am unequivocally human. But I guess this preliminary statement is going ahead of myself and that only you can decide.

I believe my story started in a place very far from the place you are now, in a country where humans do not kiss their children with their lips, but sniffle them with their nostrils. You can imagine it easily if you have seen animal documentaries on the Discovery Channel. In my motherland, parents show their affection to their offspring very much like wolves would do to their cubs. By gently putting their nose against the forehead of their daughters and their sons, my grandparents showed my mother and my father that you did not necessarily need to say anything to communicate something. Yes, I very much was raised in an indigenous country and as you can imagine, I did not know this at the time of my childhood. 

Yes, I got to second base with "him" and at that particular moment, I thought that my intentions were clear. Unambiguous. I candidly thought that he knew I meant that I loved him, and that he knew I would guard him from any dark monsters hiding from any corner of this earth. Yes. This. Is. How. Stupid. I. Am. My nose got to scent the smell of his delicate forehead as he was checking his activity on and for a second or so (really it felt something like several minutes), my mind was like lifted from the ground and that all the possibilities in the world lead me to this unique event, me getting to second base. During this delicate moment, I thought that if there is a sentiment in the world that needs to be shared, it is this discrete moment in time where you know that you, as an individual, matter to someone else. 

_What are you doing?


Like a child who got caught looking at for the first time, my only answer to his inquiry was "nothing". My emotion went from both end of the spectrum just by saying the "N" word. How stupid can you be to answer such question when not so long ago, the end of the Ottoman empire probably made my nostrils sniffling to his forehead possible? Because he, just like me, came from a land very far from where you are now. Unfortunately, his grandparents did not follow the wolves, his grandfather and his grandmother simply kissed their children with both lips on their cheeks' offspring.

I can read you like a magazine

Ain't it funny rumors fly

And I know you hear...

First period was about to start. Mrs Stettenham was about to tell us why and how Belgium was about to take control of Central Africa and my cellphone died in the middle of babbling my angst on tw1tt3r about this unfortunate series of events. The screen became very much like the title of the song that I was listening to. A blank space.


But how could I possibly explain myself in 140 characters? How could I possibly seek validation to my feelings toward him ? There must be another way. My father once told me that commitment and discipline was everything.

Let's get some discipline.

And so here I am, desperately waiting for him to notice me and maybe reciprocate like the wolves do: by gently sneefing the forehead of their loved ones.

The End

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