I remember you almost every day. I remember you when I wake up and cannot go back to sleep, when my skin feels heavy and my eyes melt into tears. I remember you when I find my way to the impossible happiness that shouldn’t exist for someone like me. And in those moments I do something worse- I end up asking heaven for forgetfulness of some kind.
Even when I know forgetting won’t save you, apologizing won’t save you, charity to strangers in your stead won’t save you, becoming a better person won’t save you. But even then I remain selfish Even then I wish for a painless way out.
I become guilty of one more crime every time I wish to erase the memory of you falling apart in my hands. The more I wear my clean clothes, the more the world believes in the goodness I now have in me; The more I know that there is no way forward for me just as there is no way back.
You still remain the unuttered name in my prayers. And all that my prayers do is to show me the hurt I can never take back. The god who refuses to save you is also the one who keeps me alive.
I folded her note and placed it carefully in my wallet. And I smiled. I told her something I do not remember now. It was something sweet, something weird, because that was the only sort of thing that could make her smile like that.
I folded her smile and placed it carefully in my wallet. And I smiled for a bit. I smiled till I saw the crease that now divided her in half. Trying to ignore the apparition of her breaking, trying to ignore my guilty heart, I gave her few words to smile about. She smiled as if she knew nothing. She smiled as if she knew everything that could ever be hidden in my heart.
I folded her forgiveness and placed it in my wallet. I smiled apologetically. She smiled back as if this is what love was. I recited to her all her favorite promises, probably to soothe my own heart.
I folded another note of forgiveness, and another, and another. The thickness of my wallet and her cracks increased by millimeters, they always walked hand in hand, unlike us. I bought her new flowers and she bought me new wallets. With a smile she told me something untrue about us, something that she could believe in. Maybe she waited for me to tell her something true for once.
But I folded every truth about us and hid it in the memories we won’t find our way back to. And just when I thought nothing can go wrong. I realized that I had also left her at that place where I was not allowed to live. She stared out and smiled from the warm rooms of love, far away from my unlovable heart.
As she places her coffee cup on the table, her eyes sting and ribs hurt to see the beautiful vase of her life dearly holding onto the oldest withered flowers of her life. Flowers were not meant to do this, she knew. She also knew she need not be like this, things need not be this way. The market is just 5 minutes away. When she has enough money to buy new gardens why lament on handful of roses, why think about people she can now never love. But the decision to forget or remember was never in her hands. And now she cannot step out and face the world – the same world who witnessed her pride and confidence in another human whose faults she refused to see till the end, the one she called her love. She felt she owed answers to every one- for loving the wrong one, for loving the wrong way, for seeking a new love, for saying yes to someone better than her, for her dissatisfaction that eats through every heart she tries to love. She didn’t want to go out and apologize for wanting.
shadows of evening are still in my room the morning rays, the flickering light bulb, your laughter, they don’t do much.
cause this life of mirrored sunshines and smiles makes me feel nothing. there is something wrong with my heart which you might have known all along.
i toss another piece of me into the ocean. it is one other piece of me that you will never see, will never have again. you hold my hand and tell me what i have thrown away was too difficult to find in this world, that it was your most favorite thing about me.
i want to cry and apologize to you but i sit there feeling relieved now that I have one less thing to lose. there is something wrong with me to not want your kindness and your love. it is not your fault dear.
*i do not like saying last night because once i only used to speak of it as ‘yesterday night’ until someone told me that it’s wrong, even if it means the same
so last night i thought how it is something you’d say “it means the same, but you are wrong”
sample conversation (based on reality, read too much into lines, sounds more neutral that it was, maybe not much of reality then)
my heart feels so empty can’t you love me bit more while i try to fix myself i promise you one day you won’t have to try but i need you today i need you to try a bit for me can you wait a bit for me
you will remain empty till you hold onto yourself only contrary to your belief you cannot fill yourself with you you can only be full of yourself which might be the case that you fall under thought i am not professionally trained to point out the wrong in people’s heart but there is so much wrong with you that i can’t swallow the judgement i have passed on you i cannot help you grow up i have a life, i have a dream i have a need for someone who can be there for me without asking such things from me…
and so went our conversation and obviously you were right you were right to such an extent that i would be just making a fool of myself if i tried to negate the facts
so being the emotional being that i am i hated you for being correct, for being so cruel, for speaking coldly about me, for letting me know more about- self-indulgence, self-pity, victim mentality, and emotional manipulation. and if i cried now, you’d be proving your point. if i complained, you’d be writing it down as a case study to support your claims.
and because of my stupid unrealistic love and my distorted sense of reality i sat there in front of you saying “i am sorry”.
you are right i need to get rid of what i am to get anywhere in life, to get over you.
beauty may be only skin deep but lack of it goes deeper than that. so deep that you end up learning to want things that you wouldn’t otherwise even think about. i wish i could remember every face that was surprised to know that i am okay with looking older than i am, surprised that i do not want to exorcise fats especially when i have got so much of it. every morning i wake up they hover over me like faceless shadows with black markers, drawing over my body showing me all that is wrong, giving me tips so that i can become easy to look at, hiding their superficiality under the wraps of concern, whispering how thick-skinned i am when i don’t listen and wondering what is wrong with the ones who love me. it made me wonder that maybe going under the knife wouldn’t be as bad as being smeared black by markers. that maybe i am supposed to love myself only after the world approves of the ‘me’ that i want to love. i would have understood if they cared, if they actually meant good, but they don’t because they know nothing more than my name and they say my name only with heart-breaking adjectives and assumptions. i want to say they are wrong, but i have suffered their gaze for so long that sometimes i end up sharing their hatred of me, of what they see. there are days that i obsess over a passing comment. there are days i beat up myself for being like this. i starve and fail, i try to get over their words and fail, i try to hate myself and fail. i want to say it doesn’t matter but it does because i am tiring myself out by trying to see something good in me, by apologizing to myself, by trying to save my heart while they burn my body in the woods.
The essays I have written on the wretchedness of this world, they are merely an argument, a poor argument, the only argument I can give when I am confronted by the wretchedness of my own soul, the blood on my own hands, the weight of shame on my conscience, and my inability to change.
I tell myself again and again
what it is that I really want
as I force myself to sit there and listen to every word
that diminishes the efforts I have put in my dream.
It makes me feel strong and pathetic at the same time,
that my wanting too little
could also be something that I must be criticized for,
something I must apologize for.
They force in their way into my mind
and take away every picture, every memory that exists
not for my happiness, not as a proof of my life
but a reminder, a reason for me to forgive and let go
of all the hurtful words that my dear ones
speak at me casually in the name of care.
I beg and cry inside,
outside I look unbothered.
I resort to everything,
anything to postpone this dismantling and rating of my life
even by a day.
I tell myself again and again
I can bear this
but I don’t think I can.
Every morning I convince myself
that all I do will make sense to them someday.
But will it really?
I do not have one person who believes in me,
in what I am capable of.
How long, how far can I walk
only by the strength of a delusional value and importance
that only I can attribute to myself.
I am an easy person
for if you really care for me
and do something for me
that my distrusting mind cannot make sense of
for even once in your life
and I would end up thinking
that I somehow need to look out for you forever.
So, you surely understand
why I need to look unbothered and hostile.
You also must have had your share
of playing friends with all those
who are really nothing like how friends should be.
You must also have blamed yourself
for not being satisfied
with what everyone considers normal
or waited for that moment
when you would grow up to see the bigger picture.
Though my life is nowhere near its end
(sometimes I sadly wish it was)
all I have learned is to either ask for less
and apologize to the world for being so needy and small
or cut off the world with rudeness
so I at least become deserving of the loneliness
that I have to live with.