I look out of windows of places that I want to escape and only after 24 hours, only after 12 years in a poem about crows, in an essay about public school, in a story, in a ruin not mine do I find the space to figure out, to sketch what I would have thought of, if I allowed myself to think. If I allowed myself to feel, what I would have loved, what I would have gladly run away from. The lives that I couldn’t start, the roles I couldn’t end they leave my skin and become the masks they always were. I carefully place these masks on the words that have nothing to do with me My words they only hold the mould that were too painful for me to confirm to or accept.
From my broken heart comes out another bird. Ignoring me, abandoning me it flies beautifully, cruelly into another world away from me and something feels a little less in me. I am not complaining. I always wanted to feel a little less. I was glad that in some way a part of me is finally free from me, that some part of me could finally breathe.
I put on my favorite show (that I have seen for umpteenth time), increase the volume, fill my plate. My eyes glued to TV notices too late all that I have spilled, fill my plate with things I won’t eat.
The same beautiful scene. Under the yellow light stand two actors, pretending to be in love, doing a better job at it that we ever could, saying words we could never say.
My heart breaks to see this love, it pops like a bubble wrap, bursts like a bubble of daydreams. No, it doesn’t hurt. I just hear a sound from the otherwise silent machinery that keeps me running.
I am glad you meant enough to me to have become a familiar bump on the familiar road that my heart always takes.
please don’t ask me how my friend is doing. we broke up. we broke up the most decent way friends can break up. without deceit, without betrayal, without cruel words or bloody knife on our backs, without stories to hurt each other with, without attempts to patch up things, without deleting each other’s number that we never bothered to memorize. i do not remember her till someone says her name and when the sound of her name finds me through a stranger’s lips, i do not feel bitterness. i not miss her. a part of my heart is glad that life didn’t turn her my enemy but a part of me wonders how she turned out to be nothing in my life. when i see facebook notifications with her name, when i get a reminder of her birthday, when she calls me up once in a blue moon to ask a favor for “her friend” without bothering to ask how i have been, what is it that am i supposed to feel? i think it should hurt in some way. i am waiting for it to hurt. i am waiting to realize the meaning of this loss. i am waiting for the day I miss her. i want to miss her so much.