The glance across the room. No strike that. An ordinary meeting. I do not remember where I first met you, but I remember becoming aware of you. Becoming aware of your maleness, of the rawness of the feeling that was to follow. The glance that should have been was a DM, that was our glance. A thousand silences and longings transported through the nerve brain that is social media to you, my object of desire.
Joy; of the newness of it all. I smile at that flickering light on the screen. A text. I live for the late night calls. I hold my breathe. I cannot contain my disbelief. You wanting me? That is a joy beyond this universe. We steal away, lock ourselves once so often. Who are we to deny what we feel? Our joy is stolen from those who are dear to us.
Love, euphoria; The philosophers, the poets and practically every human being has tried to describe and understand it for ages. The feeling of losing control, of wanting a rupture. The desire for the abandonment of body.Love. To stand outside of my own feeling, watching, waiting, yearning for the other, for you. Waiting for my flame. I sit in this dark space thinking of you, questioning whether love is worth the trouble.
Pain; A deep sadness that engulfs you. A feeling of falling through an abyss. An invincible force squeezing my heart little by little until no breathe is left. Until I choke. Pain is the sudden realization that you do not care a whit about me. It is the waiting- for 6 hours- for you to steal away from your busyness and show up at our rendezvous. Pain is the sudden smack on the face of what I have always suspected.
Heartbreak; I want to cry. I want to howl like a dog. But I cannot. I have this irrational fear that if I let that scream out, or even open my mouth slightly, I am admitting that I lost you. That you are gone.Instead, I hold it in, it chokes me and I listen to my heart as it crashes beside me. I watch as tiny translucent pieces of my heart, of the love that I have carried these three years disappears. I extend my hand to touch. Nothing. Like the love that you never had for me.
Memories; of what it was, a construction, a doll’s house, a figment of my imagination. A haunting of the absurdity of ‘I love you’. I am becoming. I am moving away from it all, from the memory of you, from the construction of Love. I blame myself. I did not love you enough. I did not give enough of myself to you.I was a nag. I always wanted more of you when I clearly knew you could only afford a few stolen hours, from your work, from them. Stolen kisses, stolen moments, stolen memories. They are not our memories anymore. They are mine and they haunt me through out the night. Till morning. Then I face the reality. I am alone, you are gone and life goes on.
Finality; closing the book, the final chapter, the final page that you have left open for too long. I thought there would be second chances, second guessings, you thought we could recapture, but your busyness betrayed you. There is no closure. It is not necessary. This was all in my head. Time will provide the final closure. Three years of euphoria, joy, pain and memories will all be forgotten, for tide waits for no one. You left, I loved you, I lost you in your busyness and in my pain, life goes on.