Breaking up in a healthy relationship makes them crack in ways they didn't think were possible. Especially when they're the one initiating it, because they gave up on their collective future and they gave up in the face of something as arbitrary as distance. Chennai and Delhi.
And it especially hurts when she asks you if there's another girl. It hurts you so much more when she questions why you refuse to fight for your love and why you have given up so quickly, two and half weeks, when even Netflix gives out a month of free subscription.
And I know you wanted to fly to me in a couple months. And I know that the journey is the destination. And I know you think my reason to break up with you is utterly bullshit. You say these two months and the memories I made with you were worth a lifetime and all it does is make me feel guilty that I don't feel the same way. Two months is not enough for me to form the base of a sustainable relationship that's moving into long distance. Even though your love helped me heal, even though your love made me feel, even though your love was all I could've ever asked for. And I know promises were made, promises that I made of my own volition, ones you didn't ask for and ones that I subsequently broke. But I'm young and stupid and a friend told me I don't have to have everything figured out, after all I'm 19 and I'm still growing.
That's not to say I don't miss you. I miss you every single day. All your love and its embodiments you left with me. On September 1st I didn't have the courage to open your letter, but a week later I opened every single one until where you wanted to give me your heart. And it broke me. It broke me like glass, leaving shards so sharp that they pierced my heart and made my chest ache in ways I didn't think were possible. My mother tells me it's okay and that I must focus on the lessons I've learnt at our expense, but all I can do is play TV Girl at 3 in the morning while my insomnia consumes my soul and I miss my morning classes because you don't wake me up anymore. You asked me in the final letter if you're still my home and if we made it. I've been feeling so guilty but reading that made me question if you ever even believed? And that's not a comment on you, but on me. I am undeserving of all that's good and deep down you somehow knew it. Your intuition has never failed you, after all.
A friend told me, when asked if it's a feeling or a decision, that it's a feeling. Love is a feeling. You keep telling me it's a decision and that we decided to hold hands right until we landed in our graves but I think I agree with him, and I must be allowed to. Just like how I must be allowed to figure my shit out independent of your pre-conceived notions towards life born from all the pieces of yourself you lost and the salvation you found from your own personal hell in Taylor Swift. If I had to keep deciding to love you, that wouldn't really be love, it would be a chore.
I miss the love that I know I lost but my grief is for the fact that I've once again turned into a bad story someone will tell their real soulmate one day. And the worst part is I don't even believe in soulmates. Under the right situations, with the right backstory, any two people can fall in love. After all, it's all chemicals in your brain. Love is a dependency. Like nicotine. And it's my misfortune that my cigarettes last longer than the presence of love in my life. Love can be a springboard for all the good in one's life and a ground to land upon once my wings tire of trying to fly, they say. And one day, I'm gonna grow wings so radiant that even Icarus would marvel at their sight, but right now all I seem to care about is the blog post you wrote about me and the breakup poetry that revealed across oceans how we'd gone back to being two "I"s instead of "we".
Amidst presentations on attachment styles, my morning ritual of reading your poetry and musafir/humsafar I might have never thought this is how it would end - an annoyance at you trying to label every single aspect of my personality. To you love is a religion, a methodical ritual. To me love is a flame that erupts in indescribable patterns. So yes I agree that we wouldn't have lasted even if we were in the same city, but we would've lasted a while longer, and I would give the world for that exchange. I'm sorry I couldn't be the right one for you... or maybe our timing was wrong. It doesn't matter anymore.
I hope one day you can find a reflection of the one who always loved you and I grow to find my paradise away from every you I have loved before.
To end this the way you did - take care, and I always love you.
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