A woman; any woman out there is not the object of desire. Looking in the mirror fools us. Every being, including all the genders that exist on earth to serve a purpose. The sole purpose of living is living our lives. We are entitled to our opinions and choices. No where does it say that one must be intolerant or unsympathetic towards others. More so, as a companion; as someone who chose you over every other man that is alive on the face of earth, you, the least I expected was to turn back and see that you stood there in flesh to question my goals. I could tell that you questioned not because you wanted to instigate a fire inside me but because it was who you were; because you are bogged so deep in the established norms that you forgot that you were setting wild, raging fire in the garden where I sowed seeds and patiently waited for the saplings to grow.
You did not understand the difference between “love you” and “I love you.” A “love you” is a mere phrase; not a declaration of love. When you spell out the words “I love you,” it signifies a universe of our own. Two people, both of us and the bed where we snuggle. And the couch that witnesses those movie nights with cold beer and pizza is something that is our own. That cocoon
is was our universe. When you say “I love you,” you open your heart, you complete the sentence. You declare that “you” another living being on this earth is truly, madly, deeply fascinated with “me” another crooked being alive at the very same moment. Sparks fly and that moment in itself is complete! Love is as much muffled noises as these loud, explicit statements of love. If you cannot complete the sentence for once, how am I to know that we can create something together; that I am not the odd one out in this pair?
I gave you my firsts. I gave you years. And in turn, I found it in me that the power to destroy and create something from scratch. Now, the latter, it is meant to be an achievement. Only, it was not. You slashed my healing wounds open. The blood flowed in copious amounts and you drank to quench your thirst. I did not feel a thing, I give you that. Was it that you’re a sly predator or love is a great anaesthetic, I kept asking myself for what now seems ages. Until one night I sat on the windowsill of a freshly painted house in an unknown city where your smell hadn’t percolated the walls and the gushing winds spoke to me. Your jacket warmed me, alright but your arms were never wrapped around my shoulders asking if I was doing fine.
It was then that I promised myself I wouldn’t break down or shed one odd tear again. Not for you. And guess what? I made it this far. I didn’t tear up or find the darkest corner holding back tears. I write of you as the sun shines bright. I do not seek refuge in the dark with the moon being my sole companion. The sunshine sieves down from the cloudy skies, touches the keyboard and my skin. I am stronger than that. At least I would like to believe so.
Years later, the same fire that you started within me warms my heart and keeps the blood flowing. Every step I take, with every passing moment, I am inching closer to where I want to be and no, honey, I do not regret it. Much better than dropping my veil at the altar now, isn’t it?
Two years ago, I picked up my bags, booked my train tickets and headed to Bangalore without thinking twice. Now, I am a mere visitor in my own room because I have built a life for myself. That did call for a celebratory post now, didn’t it? 🙂