It breaks your heart some times to see the people you love so much, wallowing in despair. And to be able to do nothing about it. Sure you can talk to them. But what do I say? Stay strong, be patient, resilience bears fruits. As I have observed, none of it quite seems to work. A confidence once floating in abundance shows no signs of trace now. Some days, you just can’t make a person you care about stop crying. And it’s fine. Them confiding enough in you to show their weak bits is a support enough. Some days, you just have to be there and remind yourself to not lose YOUR patience or faith in them. Be an anchor till the ship is ready to sail may be.
There is devil; there is the deep blue sea; and then there’s you. You came attached with a pre-written warning. Each meeting as uncertain as the next rainfall. Each word spoken to you with a sense of trepidation. Each glare aching to stay. Every moment gone by, yearning to be etched. Every touch emanating a spark; each spark begging not to die. The sparks on which books are written. Too many words spoken, yet emotions left unsaid. A story too short to begin, too close to share, too certain of its end. Doesn’t make it any less worthwhile.
I wish your eyes spoke exactly what my eyes heard, in that moment.
I wish our words found a little more than a few seconds for exchange.
I wish we weren’t so alike and our worlds so different.
I wish we didn’t have enough reasons to run amok; that we weren’t so flawed.
I wish our silliness could go on, no formalities to pile on.
Sometimes, I wish the time to stop and not pass me by.
Sometimes these things, you just can’t deny.
Here is a theory (yep! call me crazy): When you part with someone you love…it becomes kind of obvious that you are going to be Mr./Miss/Mrs. gloomy for a plentiful days. You won’t get out of bed, you won’t eat right, you won’t mingle, you will possibly do all deplorable things to make you much worse than you are. At that point of time, it seems justified, a natural course of action. Like, yeah that person mattered to me, and I am literally down in the dumps without them.
But, how about doing the exact opposite? Say improving yourself for the ones you loved. Yeah let the gloominess phase out; if it doesn’t, limp, crawl, somehow, fight out of it. Sure, getting out of the bed seems like a hill to surmount. You are better than that, heck I am better than that. Wonder what it would be like, if you just sat and decided to be a better version of yourself. I mean what’s there to lose now right? Store the residuals in a locker or something. Do something good. Something fulfilling, that delights you. Take up some activity out of your comfort zone, learn something you are entirely new to. Imagine, if you ever meet this person somewhere down the lane, you could just smile and say, your love made me stronger.
It doesn’t always have to end on a bitter note.
“I love you. But you are on your own now.”
These words could invoke loneliness at a whole new level. You have someone but only as empathetic as the wall in your room. You can’t run to them. You can’t demonstrate your authority over them. You cannot even complain to the universe. You lay in your bed, head tilted upside down embracing the emptiness inside your head. Plenty of questions. No answers. In life, at times, one trips over circumstances which are not a throughput of your own deeds. I want to say, accept what comes. Cringe. Dole. Find your own way through. Try and accept it.
Missing someone is such a pain. It leaves you with spongy eyes. And a series of sleepless nights. What am I running away from? I don’t think I’ll escape these thoughts. Or ever escape from you. Tiny grains of your character, flashes of your smile, your peculiarities, unrestrained talks, your blemishes and moments of spark, everything has assimilated into me how colors once blended cannot be separated back. They form a composite shade of something new. I am not the same. I guess, now, I am a composite tone of you. Yes, my tints might have affected your contour as well. But I’ll not let it be my concern anymore. I wouldn’t cringe or beam at the thought of you. I would just be, the newer me.
You were not my type. You didn’t fall under my bracket of volition. And you did not remotely match to any of my checklist points. We were yet another rendition of opposites attract, and you were a classic, clichéd risk. I am not trying to find a pattern here. And I do not intend on recollecting all the details of our past, but what I do remember, is that you made me laugh. And somehow, it meant the world. If I close my eyes, like even a blink, it all comes back to me in tiny speedy flashes of fire and snow together at once. I get confused, what to feel. The bliss of loving or the sorrow of parting. Ever since you have gone, I don’t know what I miss more: you or myself.
P.S.: Couldn’t find a title. Could be post Valentine’s effect.