Acceptance

I applied an egg mask on my hair for the eighteenth time in the last three months.

I bore with the pungent smell because I was told there be a sheen in my hair. 

As I rinsed my hair that afternoon and waited for the magic to happen. 

I realised. 

My hair will never become shiny. 

My skin would never be smooth. 

My nose will always have freckles. 

And some people will never be sorry. 

And so I accepted.

I was standing in the first rain of the season. 

The gentle showers breaking the harsh heat. 

I let the water drip from my craving body. 

For that moment, it was all supposed to be perfect. 

But it wasn't. 

For that evening, I realised. 

That monsoon would never be enough. 

Winters will never be beautiful. 

And summers will never be fun. 

If you wouldn't be drenched with me here. 

And so I accepted. 

I was laughing like it was God's own will. 

In your bed, under your sheets, besides your skin. 

My voices filling the room, your presence giving it aroma. 

And as I gasped for breath.

 In the blissful moment, I realised. 

That life is short and unexpected. 

I don't have all the answers. 

And there are million of things could go wrong now. 

But in this second with you, it wouldn't matter. 

And so I accepted.