i feel so lonely after my friends are talking about past or potential future relationships. i love my friends, and relationships are nice… but just talking about it doesn’t seem to cross as something i would like to do. no. and i don’t care how pathetic that sounds, i just don’t. p.s. i will be waiting for you to hold my hand. whoever you are.

when i finally meet you, i’m going to hold your hands. just hold your hands….

i’m going to show you the rivers on my palms, the nails that are chipped, and the calluses that form from a summer job three years ago. i’m going to show you the valley of the in betweens, where your fingers are latched to mine, and mine to yours. a place so private, i’ve never let anyone in before.

because when i finally meet you, i’m going to let my fingers tell you a story…. of the little cat that was stuck on a tree, and of the little boy that scratched his palm on the tree bark. of the invention of an eco-bottle, and of a frustrated idiot who accidentally sliced his middle finger with a knife trying to make a hole for the little fish that is gasping for air. of a paper cut from a bunch of warm white crisp papers out of the printer for an immunology thesis. i’d tell you everything.

my hands aren’t the prettiest hands. the lumps and bumps are staying, the calluses more so. but these hands will build you a house, and feed you. it will dry your tears. it will curl up into fists and fight for you. we’ll be like this, hand in hand when you see your first snow and say that they look like pixie dusts, and even when the wind comes knocking at my knuckles, i swear i won’t let go… for as long as you’ll have me.

and i will do just that because it is my way of making a promise, that even though it is just for a moment, you will never have to face the world alone.

2012(c) Victoria Rahardjo 
please do not take without my consent.

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