i can’t…i just can’t bring myself to remove all the ellipsis…that i leave behind in my sentences. i know they look shabby… as if i don’t know how to create proper sentences…as if i have never heard of a comma. i am told it is something similar to ending and pausing sentences with “you know”.
“so juvenile”…my friend had commented. i remember saying the same words to my friends as well (but i don’t think my tone was the same, but i could be mistaken…or self righteous)…so it seems i am not allowed to take it to heart. i am supposed to erase the ellipsis…till they smile again and lie that “i will do better”…or that “it’s time i grow up”…or “gotta become a real poet”.
it seems it is okay to store my ellipses in my mind to place it on an empty sky, on the face of my teacher sprinkled with a hatred that i can’t understand, on the hands that never reach out to me in daylight, on the future i can’t seem to dream about, on every minute that i walk alone on the streets where i thought i would never have to be alone, on the days when i know the answer but won’t speak up for the fear of being right. i don’t know how to live a life where what i think has importance or the acceptance of others. need to find a better home for my pauses than pages that are mine but only with conditions.
as you melt your heart into oceans i fear my arms betray me sometimes, sometimes they go numb, they surrender at the thought of your warmth. when you tell me of your love as i ache for another, i want a part of me to ache for you as well. when you settle for being my comfort rather than my love, i wish i had loved you instead. but we are selfish dear i cannot give up just as you can’t. we wait to be seen by the one we can’t seem to reach. we wait because that’s the only answer we have. we try to forget the love that we can have but don’t want. i am fond of you, so forget me if you can. i can’t bear to see my pitiful self in you, i can’t bear to drag you down to my hell only to leave you alone.
When I sit still I am not waiting. I am thinking of what is not and why it should never have been. I zoom into every empty space and practice how to look away when it hurts me. I remove my watch from my wrist and place it next to plate for a better view and a ruined palate. I start from the names I know, I start from the what they used to be and what they have become. All the while not addressing the forest in the middle of my home and the animal cries in my chest. The fog in your mind now spreads into mine. Now I sometimes forget your name as you forgot mine. I dream of making you cry to forget my own tears. I wait and sometimes dream that you would never arrive, that I would forget whom I was waiting for and I would smile not knowing why.
i try to sleep, to forget the pain near my spine, to forget all the hours in front of me that i have no use of. i look at my palm from near and from as far as my hands can extend. i notice how my hands have changed. do i like it better now? i wonder if it possible to like anything about my body now. i remember once deciding not to at least hate this skin that has use for everyone but not to me. i remember saying “as long as it makes you happy” at the same time thinking “i don’t think you care for my happiness”. i stop myself from finding more things that make me confused or miserable. i unlock my phone. it’s 8 already- more and more notifications, …5GB extra..Alert:You have spent… …has added a new post…added a new story airplane mode, the notifications continue to pile up in my head- all the words that i will never get to see that i always expected even when i knew i shouldn’t, it has been long……sorry, for making you feel alone… today i saw something and was reminded of you. even though we are not together, it is not your fault… thank you for being there for me……it must have been tough… don’t hurt yourself i feel smaller knowing that even the words i want are only words of consolation, just confirmation that i am not the worst. i look at my hands again and wonder if my hatred for myself colors my skin. is that how everyone gets know that i don’t have the courage to ask for fair, for loyalty, for answers? is that how i look? someone who doesn’t have the voice to ask anything anymore.
Now that we are an year apart. Now that everyone has been talking about new beginnings and second chances, I let myself be myself, let myself be swayed at the hope, at the thought of the ONE.
But being myself also means to be keep my heart broken. It means to leave every crowded room to find the corridors where I can be finally alone with the mistakes I am about to make.
I hold someone who could have been you but is not. I cry the same tears that once made you pity me. I jot down a name and a number and a weakness, a need where I could fit myself into.
And as I lay in bed I feel something sad and beautiful in my heart- an end that I am creating for myself. This is how love has always been for me, so I let it be and smile as I kiss another stranger who won’t be able to save me from anything.
The soap slips through my fingers and falls onto the floor (a floor that in my mind is never clean enough). I wash the soap vigorously, till it becomes half of what it was. My teachers would be proud to know that I take germs somewhat seriously even now. Even now, when I am sure of only of my loneliness*, such ghosts of primary school science don’t leave me alone.
*My hands are too small, I have been told many a times. Maybe that’s why this happens so often. But still I guess it happens to all. I can never know for sure though. No one I have ever met talks of the soaps that slip. Maybe that shows the state of my friendships, how I end up feeling weird, feeling alone about the things, in experiences that are supposed to be normal and common.
From my empty room, from the edge of my personal cliff, I looked into the windows of strangers, looked over their shoulder at texts they write, looked at the pages where their bookmark rests, silently waited at the edge of my chair trying to overhear responses to the big questions.
And all I have known by prying so hard is that there is nothing there. Nothing in the text that could pass for shorthand. The same book rests on the same table for years, serving only the role of a carefully thought out accessory. No question is big enough to be carefully considered. No relationship is important enough to be held to heart. That I was foolish to believe otherwise till now. That I am putting myself on another path to heartbreak if I do not believe in the night that I see. I must unlearn the way I have lived to find a place to belong.
In between the cold beginning and cruel ends that are the parentheses of our lives, there is nothing for me to hang on to. But it helps to know that there are plenty of empty rooms in this painful smaller eternity, that I need not kill myself over an emptiness so common. And it is really difficult to feel alone once I know that.
i am a girl who reads too much between lines, especially yours. and your words, they were cold but they were warmer than the pages they were written on. and since i wanted to love you i tried to see your world as one big adventure even when my heart was filled with fear. i tried to do things that might make you happy, to say the words that might put you at ease. though i suffered greatly, being with you made up for everything, or so i thought. but in the hope to be loved i bent a little too much forgot where to stop, i went overboard with the idea of sacrifices and promises and forgot to look at the blood and life i had lost.
“one day he would grow up, one day he would realize, one day his love for me, would actually feel like love“- were the words i lived by. but isn’t it pathetic that even when i have no use for these words, even my soul is more sore than alone, at night when i count the pieces of me, and the numbers just won’t add up, the thing that i am most sad about is that i was so easy to love and yet you couldn’t.