This where my moment of collapse, where my undoing starts. Me, sitting in front of something that I used to love, something that used to carry a part of me. Me, in front of bookshelves, looking at the list of movies that broke open my heart, moving my hands over the quotes that I took pains to scribble on everything I own, half-hiding behind the high dining tables, not really eating, not really listening, making cracks on my glass skin with the fork that has forgotten how food feels, hesitating to touch that reply button, hesitating to hold his hand. “i am empty, i can’t find in myself the will to love anything in this world”, I want to say. But it would be so unfair to break another’s heart, only because I have lost mine. But won’t it be equally unfair to give someone hope with my meaningless smiles.
*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.
you and the me that i was, that you hated once, but not as much what i am right now
you and your rough sketch of me that looks like bits and pieces of your past lovers
you and your ticking clock, both waiting for me to change
you and you habit of making me wait, of walking out on me
you and your empty seat that you have already forgotten
you with your air of arrogance that i pretend not to see for the sake of loving you
you and your smile that sometimes (most of the times) have nothing to do with me
you and your calls out of blue, calling me love, calling me heartless, throwing me away and calling me back,
you and your words, your voice always asking for more
you and your insistence of loving in past and hating in present
you and your love that wants never to be associated with me
you and your cruelty of always forgetting (only) me, forgetting the hurt you cause
you asking me to love you back in spite of all, asking me to speak only in sweet words, never asking me how i made it through the pain you gave me last time, never wondering what do i want out of this love, that has no place for me
I walked into troubles, into fogged minds, into friend circles that cultivated their alter egos on every meager piece of earth that they otherwise couldn’t plant their feet upon.
I walked into crumbling cities, into impossible dreams, into the lifeless replicas of your heart- hoping you would come after me. But as time ate me up I just hoped that you’d remember name at the least.
I wish that you had stepped a little closer to me, given me false hope, and broken my heart. but I have nothing of you, nothing to hate you for, nothing to remember your love by, except the empty place I made for you to stay in me – the only part of me that makes living difficult for me.
Do you remember the day when we sat on the edge of our own growing hills of delusions and reached out our hands to feel something real. But even when you dissolved as I dissolved, for a minute my hands were not empty. So even if we can’t offer anything real to each other remember that you are here in this same world as me. I see you, even when you think no one does. You are here, don’t forget.
hailstones. that’s what i remember. when the stones fell onto the already breaking roofs of our class, the girl who sat three rows ahead stopped reading. everyone who was busy day dreaming, who had shut their ears to every useless fact that we come to learn, knew how to listen to this, to this violence that could hurt but won’t.
i sat there listening, wondering if my skin would also be able bear what this tin sheet roof can, if my classmates would look at me understand their violence that could break me but hasn’t yet.
maybe it was our silence, maybe it was the teachers glare that made it stop, made the loud shrieking rain to end. and when she left the stones had already turned into dripping water. the kids wanting to forget the trauma of being silenced, of having their dreams interrupted, of being reminded of their helplessness recited incidents that didn’t happen, tried to laugh a little louder than usual, made another joke at the expense of someone like me and so my only memory of hailstone was also reduced to the din of students (who never liked me).
i closed my books and pretended to be asleep while everyone ate and talked to their friends. i waited for everyone to leave so I could eat alone without being ashamed for being left alone. “hailstones”. i said the word aloud in that empty classroom. i had one more words now to describe these kids who scared me by their meanness, who made me like the prospect of loneliness.
I could no longer taste the nameless fruit that I held in my hand, that I hid in my mouth a moment ago. I fled from one home to another. I sewed my heart to another even when it pained. I tried to find myself back, pry out my heart from the cage of love even when I was happy. I wanted to miss someone. I wanted to call out a name, so that my life may not feel empty. Since I had many names on my lips, I came to know that the emptiness of my life came not from the lack of people I loved but by the lack of people who treasured me back. So I let the fruit fall to ground. I let my hunger gnaw at the my own skin. I forced myself to think of myself, by hurting myself, by asking myself to forget.
As I walked around the city all night, as I put my tears on display on empty roads, I realized nothing has changed. Standing there I knew that I am okay if the world sees me like this. Even if the streets gets lighted I can continue to cry, I can be pathetic. I was fine being pitiful in every eye but yours. I feared how you might not like all this. And that’s why I had to show you what I looked like when you are not there. I knew I had to find your door and wake you up from this dream that could surely not be love. But as you finally opened up the door I found myself smiling again. Confused whether I am trying to hide myself again or you are all I need to forget my sorrow.
I bask in the sunlight of borrowed memory. I grieve in the arms of your dying words. I find another piece of myself to send you away with and I wonder why I feel empty even though you have given me your all.