“i was born like this”, I lie, when I really want to say
“the normal ones, the sane ones are surprisingly excellent at breaking anyone without any guilt whatsoever.
i no longer have strength to leave them, or beg them, or handle the repercussion of wanting them.
i fear them only when i cry though i am not exactly sure why it should be so.
the positivity, the kindness, the unity, the charity, the world peace that they talk about looks so beautiful when put in action for example, there are holes in me though i have never seen a bullet in my life and i am not allowed to say it is their doing “it is a result of my negative thinking and bad karma” i parrot like i have been taught to.
this burnt skin, this distrustful heart, the layers of clothes that are prerequisite of proving my modesty if god-forbid i let loose an animal in someone just because i exist, the logs of missed calls and blocked calls and blocked memories that are the only things protecting me now. this is how i was born.“
Though absurd, it sounds like truth the more I say it. This is how I hurt whatever is left of my heart.
I came here knowing that you would be here as well, knowing that you won’t like to see me here or anywhere. But I have been always good at not seeing the truth. So as I put on the dress I wore when I first met you I told myself – if you hate me, resent me for showing up, it is because you have not forgotten me yet; if you avoid me it is because you know you would love me again.
The distance has dulled all the pain that I felt with you and I prepare myself to dive again into the turmoil, the feelings that result from seeking you out again.
But as I enter this room this crowd that knows our history can’t decide whether to get us closer or to keep us apart. No one says your name around me, even though you are in front of me and I wonder, how long it has been since you have heard my name as well.
I have taken a step and now I have to wait for you to take the next. Would it have been easier for me if you could just utter the word ‘end’, instead of avoiding me like this. As the hour I have allowed myself to be shameless ends, as I wonder how will I ever make my way out of this world of yours, I feel the air beside me shift I feel the old me waking up in myself again. But it is not you. You have already left. I realize the end I could never imagined exists, that a ‘you’ without me exists. That I must find a new way to exist now.
Like me, probably many have tried their best to set their limits, have learned how to stop before learning how to move. We recite story of forgiveness, of patience, of eternal undying love to our children at night. and when they fall asleep we recite these stories to ourselves, so that we may not forget them. I remember all the proofs, every news that told me how wanting more, wanting somewhere’s share of happiness, wanting too much- can result in catastrophes. that is how I learnt that some wants can destroy lives, can create demons out of people. The one who wrongs and the one who is wronged just move around this world trying outrun the aftermath of careless actions.
I tell myself stories about why I threw away all that I had, or why everything was taken away from me. How I was too weak, will always be too weak to carry the weight of the gifts that I had. Or how I was never quite convinced that I had something to be proud of. How I was always trying to gauge how much deep my feelings ran for everything that I could only sort-of-love. I can list all similar attempts where I sought a better quantitative understanding of my specialness and used these unreliable results to decide how and when to give up. But if I had to give one consolidated story of why I was never a failure at anything, why I never succeeded, why I had nothing to show for the years I lived or for the talents that people remember me for. If I had to be concise and true I would say I never made those decisions, I was never aware of how I felt about all the things that bother me now. I drifted away from what I was, from what I treasured, the way dear friends lose touch, lose each others name, lose a happiness they could have had. Only to be reminded of this loss when it no longer matters.