I just finished reading an article on a friend’s blog about
heart break. She talked about how her life changed after her five year
relationship, of who we are before and after that significant remarkable person
comes into our life and turns it upside when they leave. She spoke about how
all that is left are memories, memories that we want to forget but still choose
to not let go off, because they give us strength. Its ironic how our first
serious relationship defines us, how the identity of the couple molds the
identity of the individual. It’s even more ironic how we let these shadows;
these mists cloud the bitter reality of our failures, just so that we can go on
with life. But we need to move on, and I guess there is no shame in choosing
the comfort of false pretenses in order to pick ourselves up, or rather to numb
us to the pain.
It’s been more than two years. Since, my relationship itself
did not last for two years I certainly did not anticipate that the hollow
created by its breakdown would linger so long. Truth be told, I never wanted to
be a helpless broken spirit and I certainly am not anymore. Yet, small things,
like the smell of a particular cologne, the memories of frantic whispers, a particular
date and time, do bring back a flood of almost visceral emotions. The
distinctness of the memories has faded with time, but the feelings associated
with them linger. Today, the sixth of January, was the day I had given him a
dark green shirt, four years ago (It’s been four years!) and I remember that
indescribable feeling in my heart and stomach, when I saw him in it. It was
also the first time I received a T-shirt from him, which I wore till the
writing faded away. With an almost audible sigh, I realize that I can sense the
imprints of these emotions perhaps because a small part of me still yearns for
him. Or probably it’s more of a yearning to be in love again. Over time the
lines get so blurred, that we lose track of what we really want and grapple around with fantastical ideas and concepts. Again, I suppose this is just another coping mechanism, because we humans hate to face the truth and prefer to voluntarily live in a dream, much like the matrix.
Listening to sad songs, and reading about the most iconic
movie characters of all time, I keep thinking, “We should have done this
together”. Him and me, cozy in bed, under a blanket, his arm around me laughing
about R2D2, debating nay agreeing, about Agent Smith being the most awesome bad
guy ever. Walks on the beach, staring at stars, going to the movies, grad
school, choosing majors, waiting anxiously for long weekends so that we can
meet each other in some idyllic city or town- That’s what it should have been.
That’s what should have happened. But it never would because it never was. Why do I still feed my poor idle mind, these
fantasies of an ideal love story, when there really wasn't one? Are we lonely
hearts, all part of the same schizophrenia? A multitude of people living under
some sort of mass delusion! Finally, I begin
to question, “Was any of it, any of it real? Was it worth “living under the
influence” for four years and God knows how many more to come?”
I suppose some questions have no answers. More plausibly, we
know the answers we seek but we choose to ignore it, choosing instead to live
in a bubble. I can’t speak for the masses, nor can I be the voice of people who
have seen many more real issues in their relationships or broke up under harder, more trying circumstances. But as for me, I know, I’m hanging on to something
that I cannot quite place. Clutching at straws, holding a fistful of sand as it
drains away slowly. Is it the glorious feeling of misguided martyrdom, or the
fear of accepting failure, the fear of being alone, the anger that things did
not turn out the way I wanted them to? Is it the fear of growing older and
realizing that nothing is quite what it seems, and fairy tales are merely just
that- fairy tales? Is it the fear of the possibility of never finding that
person who I can happily and willingly give myself to completely and unconditionally, without second thoughts or
inhibitions, a person who would reciprocate that and give himself to me
completely?
Whatever it is, I guess the songs and the movies and the
books and all the clichés are true. When a heart breaks, no, it doesn't break
even and a small, little, tiny part of you is gone forever. Of course, it’s not
the end. In fact, there is a strong likelihood that the entire cycle will
repeat again, at least a few times. A tiny spark, exploding into burning,
crackling fire, illuminating everything, until it burns itself out, fading
away, till only glowing embers remain amongst the ashes of what once was. And
maybe, one day, they will come by. They will come by, carrying a spark that
sets your mind, body and soul on fire, feeding your flame and growing from it,
to burn on forever, eternally, warm and comforting. Until then, I guess we got
to just hold on to the spark within us, waiting patiently, biding our time,
till the magic begins!
