there was once a boy who came up to me and told me that i was cold. i was very much surprised by what he said because i had never thought of myself that way. and what was even more surprising was that it came from him.

of course i vehemently denied his charges. i am not cold and i know it. or do i? the seed was planted and there was little i could do to stop its festering and its growth. i laughed it off because as self-preservation goes, that is the best you can do.

time passed by and still his words played itself in my head. at first i questioned myself. am i cold? really? but then the questions took a turn and soon, they ceased to be questions: they became an affirmation. i began telling myself, yes, he is right. you must be cold.

and so i carried those thoughts in my head and lived my life the way he imagined me to be. i made excuses for my so-called behaviour and consoled myself with the fact that it was a mechanism for, once again, self-preservation.

a few days ago whilst doing molecular work, something broke the mundane repetition of pipetting reagents i had weaved around myself. when i plunged into the ice where my samples were, a shard followed my hand out and came to rest on my finger. as i stared at it admiring its beauty which was simple yet strikingly piercing, it slowly shrunk and melted away into nothingness.

the moment it disappeared, something sparked itself to life at the back of my mind and i found myself thinking wryly: hmmm, i am not cold after all.

i am not cold.

the blood that rushes through every vein in my body is warm enough to melt ice.
the breath that escapes from my mouth creates mists and vapours as hot air meets cold surroundings.
the hands that i place on my mirror leaves a print in the form of condensation.
the tears that spill from my eyes streak and scald their way down my cheek.

and i loved.

i loved him the way stars burn.



but i don't think he ever knew.