They say the passage of time will heal all wounds. But the greater the loss, the deeper the cut, and, the more difficult the process to become whole again. The pain may fade but scars serve as a reminder of our suffering. And, the bearer all the more resolved never to be wounded again. We suffer when we don’t want to accept some beloved’s hand in the pain, and we suffer when we don’t want to let go. So, as time moves along, we get lost in the distractions, act out in frustration, react with aggression, give in to anger. And, all the while, we plot and plan as we wait to grow stronger. And, before we know it, the time passes. We are healed, ready to begin anew.
After the last love poem you ever wrote for me, I tried to find the same ethereal beauty in writings of others. They were beautiful. But they weren’t yours. Nobody could write poems like you do. Only ever you.
After the last fight we had, you called me names, I whined and whined, I tried to find the words that would call me silly and still tell me they love me for who I am. No words were the perfect balance of “You are stupid” and “You have a beautiful smile”. Only ever you.
After the final good byes, filled with remorse and tears spilling all over, I tried to find the same hey, beautiful in every greeting, in every hello. None of the words seemed sincere enough. None of them yours. Only ever you.
After the last text you ever sent, I tried to find your mark on everything. I stalked you on your social media accounts, I stalked the kind of music you listen to, I stalked all the words you ever said. It wasn’t you. Only a memory of you. Only ever you.
After the last time I typed your name in the search box and had my fill of your name all over the cursed screen, I thought of texting you once again. Maybe we could make do. Maybe we could work out. I had been too adamant in my refusal to accept you. You had been too insistent our time is now. Maybe you were right. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have listened to you. Only ever you.
After thinking of you for months and months, I suddenly realised I had no more tears left to cry, I had no understanding of poetic words anymore, I found no joy in lovely hellos these days, you haven’t posted on any of your pages in months now, and I knew I was right afterall. This was my wake up call. You had been special, and I had loved you for who I thought you were. Only ever you.
But you weren’t a match for what my mind had conjured over time. Not in the least. You were a figment of my imagination. And, like everything imaginary, it hurt to let you go. You were mine. And, you were beautiful. But you weren’t real.
Those poems were oversent, those hellos overused, those compliments generic, the memories of you meddled with by my need to hold on to the perfection of you a little while longer, and your exclamations of us belonging together as untrue as they come.
It became easier to take a deep breath and it became easier to let you go.
Home is where the love is. Even when you get on their nerves,they love you. When you irritate them like anything, they love you. So,yeah. Home.💚 Home is where family is. Even when you feel all alone,they are there for you. Even when you push everyone away, they are there for you. So,yeah. Home.💚 Home is where the heart is. Even when you live thousands of miles away, your heart lies with your roots. Even when you think you can go far away, your heart pulls you back to exactly where it wants to be. So,yeah. Home.💚
It’s been many days since I left you. I would like to believe I did it for good this time,but we both know I would be lying. It’s not the end,no. It’s not our end. We go way back and I am afraid it would take more than a couple of weeks of torture to sever the ties for forever. I know for a fact that I can move out on you whenever I want to. But as owl city would say, I can never leave. I am stuck with you. And your obsessive possessiveness won’t let go; won’t let me break free of the clutches that’s your grasp on my life. I am just a mere pawn now. You won’t let me leave and I have become too used to your presence to know otherwise now, I guess. I wish I didn’t. I wish it was different. I wish we were different. I wish I was free. But, alas! I can’t escape. I got to accept that bitter reality. It’s bittersweet, really. People want somewhere to belong to. I have that. I have you. I don’t want you. I don’t miss you. I haven’t missed you yet. Only when I stop to think about you, I hate everything about you. And when you stop to think about me,you hate everything about me. Why did I ever love you? Why do you love me? I am stuck with you for a year and a half more. I don’t want to be stuck with you. I don’t want to be near you. There’s so much fish in the water. Take your pick. Just…let me be. I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate.
Sincerely, A (A student who hates you A student who hates your very face A student who wants to go away from you A student who doesn’t want to belong to you A student who doesn’t appreciate you A student who doesn’t love you)
In case there’s still a doubt left in your mind about who this is addressed to, it’s my college, my course, the city I live in to be “near” these^. That’s who.-.-
This pressure on my head just might kill me. I am coming to realise that now. It just might be the end of me. My doom. And the crazy thing is I know I am the only one responsible for this predicament I am in. This mess of a life I have made it be is my doing. There’s really no one to blame but me. And the thing is,it’s all in my own damn head. I feel like I might go crazy, totally nuts, if I am not relieved of this burden soon. I know that would happen for sure. No way will I come out of this unscathed. One can take only so much. And it will all be ruined. There’s no ifs and buts about this. Neither is there a question of when. It’s only a question of to what extent. Because ruin everything, it will. And it wouldn’t be easy to recover from. Maybe it would be irrecoverable. Yes! That just might be true. I am coming down. That’s the only thing I am sure about right now. It’s over. The game’s over. So am I. Can nobody protect me? None? Am I gonna burn all alone? Maybe I will. I was the one with my hands crossed at my back, making a sympathetic face, when I saw them go down,afterall. I am so over. I don’t wanna continue like this, anyway.
Another birthday. Another year of wisdom added to his already burgeoning load. Another year of loving and being loved. Another year living cocooned in the safety and warmth of the knowledge that HE’S my papa. Another year spent enveloped in care, and strength, and happiness, and, ofcourse, love. He’s the best father. But he’s theBESTEST papa in the whole damn world.❤
This was written when it stuck me out of nowhere in econometrics class that it’s her birthday. My grandma’s. My amma’s. So there are chances you might not be able to make out words which I have scribbled. And ignore the ink smudges,ofcourse.