Letter to Infatuation

Hi there! 

I greet you with happy jitters and happier tingles. Useless to ask after your welfare knowing you are at your best always, fed on the best of pills -- anticipation, appreciation, addiction and a little bit of love. There are so many kinds of love -- platonic, erotic, toxic -- but the feeling that you offer is lovingly lovely. There is something oddly warm celebratory feel about you and your moments of anxious peek-a-boos, and carefully placed carelessness-es, of nail-biting desires for a reciprocation, or a look, and hair-splitting faith in emotions. You make me feel very, very alive, thank you!

Having been blessed to be born in a family which is a sucker for love, in a wholesale fashion, my heart keeps returning to function in your channel each time it is vacant. I actually quite enjoy having you around, and thus this letter for a time when you may not be (difficult). At this moment I am favoured in your amplitude with atleast with three-four beings. This letter also works as a thanksgiving for kindling all those heavily petty feelings in me regularly, time and again. A cute face, a charming personality, a towering figure, a soft heart -- I have been affected by all varieties and I feel strangely enriched, rather than impoverished when I am done with one. 

You are the garlic butter that peps up the mushroom omelet. Unhealthy, but something which cannot be done without. I like you. And even though I am blushing as I confess, I think I am quite smitten by you too. Oh and how you make me blush! Each time I do, I am embarrassed even further. The very thing about your existence is the notion of invisibility and the blush acts as the exact antithesis. I don't know what I really intend to converse with you about, may be this that you dissolve all intentions. You have this effect of the sweet sensation of a stable smile, and the thought of the chosen constant. You are a nasty constant. I hate you, you make me feel sixteen all over far too many times. I am smiling, this letter is silly. But that kind of makes it sweet too. The honesty of you, all over me. Multiple times, multiple ways. 

As much as I am yours too,

K.