Skylines and souls

Been trying to write something, to excavate anything from deep within the deep hollow corridors of my brain, of my soul, but the words remained buried, stubborn as secrets. Until now.

The last few days have been epic in ways I never anticipated. Been sick most of the week so plans changed, and sometimes the universe's redirect leads us exactly where we need to be. Last night, between the Singapore skyline glittering like scattered diamonds and the 13th floor terrace suspended between earth and stars, I met him.

The man that stole my breath with one spin dance move...

A simple rotation that somehow unwound years of carefully constructed emotional defenses.

He knew I was travelling in less than 24 hours, the ticking clock of departure already counting down our moments. He said he feels something too deep...I did too...so he wanted to go deeper. Not away from the intensity, but into it, like diving into dark water trusting it will hold you.

A few weeks ago it was the opposite—I was told that things got too deep, so that's it. The familiar retreat when connection threatens to become real, when souls start recognizing each other across the crowded rooms of our lives.And honestly I still miss him because I never thought I cared this much until it ended, until the absence carved out a space I didn't know existed.

I don't know how someone could feel so deep for someone after a few hours, but perhaps depth isn't measured in time but in recognition. He was rebelling against the world by making me throw ping-pong balls from the 13th floor, tiny white spheres disappearing into the city below like wishes released into the night. Destiny? Probably.

We didn't wanna think about the travel—like kids escaping bedtime we kept talking till late, stealing hours from sleep to feed this sudden hunger for each other's stories. Then the next day we walked on the beach, hands entwined, souls entangled in ways that made physical separation feel like a cruel joke of geography, till I had to hop on that plane that would carry me away from whatever this was becoming.He looked me in the eyes and said " you're going to be my torturer" and still wanted to dive deeper, to see how this thing would go.He sees the capacity for pain in loving me and chooses it anyway, like someone knowingly walking into fire because the warmth is worth the burn

We left with promises of meeting soon and WhatsApp messages that promise closeness even if we're islands apart right now, then continents apart in a bit. Digital threads trying to hold together what distance threatens to unravel.

Crazy how I would even consider moving my whole life for a person, but I think I am crazy...is this love or what? The question hangs in the air like incense, sweet and intoxicating and impossible to ignore.

Never felt this deep or this intense toward someone....like my soul craves his presence before my hand craves his...my little hand inside his protected...needed...loved. A reordering of desire where emotional hunger precedes physical, where safety feels like the rarest luxury.

Was I lured by his Italian charm or was I the one who lured him in? Maybe we both did, like two magnets discovering their opposite poles, drawn together by forces beyond conscious decision.

I might be back to the busy KLCC right now, surrounded by the familiar chaos of home, but my heart is still beside him on that beach, overlooking Singapore with Bali on the horizon and coconuts all around us, sitting on the grass hand in hand. Never let go of the hands till I had to go.

For now we're apart, separated by miles and time zones and the cruel mathematics of geography. But I think I found my home. Not in a place, but in the recognition that passed between us in those stolen hours—the feeling of being seen, truly seen, for the first time in longer than I can remember.