"I'm sure waking up to find no one around you isn't as bad as trying to hug yourself in remembrance of your lover's embrace at dawn. It's not the days that scare me, it's the nights: nights that are romanticized by intellectuals and millions in the past, nights that are supposed to rain fairy dust on your heads and turn your afro into shimmering silk, pumpkins into carriages, people into characters out of mystic tales, mice into beautiful white horses; when the moonlight is dissected by the mosquito nets that are supposed to protect your childhood fantasies that can no longer dazzle you, and you can only pitifully only identify with the shadows that the pattern of the net creates and not the magic of light. You're entangled between binaries; hope and pragmatism, irrational optimism and heart wrenching reality, night and day. All you can do to soothe yourself is breathe in and out the veracity of your life but nothing fills in the void that occupies your external space, nothing at all. All you can do is close your eyes and stroke your waist the way they did, and wait for slumber to come creeping in through the spaces that create shadows of the same nets that the moonlight surrenders to and battles with simultaneously."
He was unlike any boy she had met. She was intoxicated by the thought of him. He was fascinated by the idea of her. Neither of them had any idea of what was going on in the other's head, neither of them knew what the other person was thinking. She wanted to be his best friend. She wanted to be his sworn confidante. No, she didn't know him at all. All she knew about him was his name, his passion for music and that he was a huge John Mayer fan. She had no idea of what she was getting into or how she got in but she couldn't control the attraction she felt towards him. She knew that there was something very dangerous about him. She knew it the second she spoke to him for the first time ever... But there was just something very captivating about the eyes he kept hidden from the world; there was a mystic magic that the compelling and almost magnetic force of his gaze seemed to display and yet surreptitiously concealed behind the domains of his self-created psychosocial barriers
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