Do you still remember the day you left me here, for a city miles away, to chase your faraway luscious dream? Of course, you do. But, think hard, do you really remember the day, the girl in a yellow dress? Who was mumbling something not audible and you failed to read those quivering lips, remember that? Who wished for the sky to fall or earth to break or sea to roar or air to rattle only to make you realize how broken that girl in yellow dress, standing behind the barricades, was; how badly she needed you. Well…I do. I vividly do.
You went away, from the place, not from the heart. You knew that too. I emailed every day. You checkd on me too, if not every day, every other day. I even flew to your place once, on your birthday, remember? That was years back though. I had promised to never crib about the thousands of miles between us; or about the years we spent without seeing other’s face; or even about the fact that you seemed happier without me. The latter-most one was a conjecture, a wild one; yet there it
was. I’ve seen bad days; there had been times, when hell broke loose and I lost it all. I threw things, I messed the whole house, I even burnt…stuff. Was I losing my mind? The situation says for itself.
But if I were asked, I wasn’t losing my mind or anything then, at all; how could I lose myself then when I had already lost myself years back? I wasn’t what I was; the face, the hairs, the body were the same, but what is concealed from naked eyes had changed, (or was it lost?) long back. What was deplorable to me now was the messy way of finding myself back. I was missing you. And the fact that I, probably, wasn’t being missed broke me in a more irreparable way. Was I damaged? No. Was I in hell? No. Then, was I weak? Perhaps, yes. I turned weak when you left me. Okay, I think, ‘you left me’ sends out unintentional bad vibes. So, let’s call it your turning away for a while. Still the same? A short sojourn to another place, this should work.
I turned weak when you left for your short sojourn for a faraway city. I realized it only when it happened. I realized my fault, soon after you went. I realized how I had invested my power and vigor in you, how I had my dependency laid on you, and, when you left me on my own, I felt like a toddler learning to walk, like a kid learning to ride a bike for the first time. Just a moment’s independency, and I thought I lost it. With that thought running, I really lost it all.
I didn’t shatter. That definitely qualifies for being an overstatement. Most definitely. But I turned weak, my wings disappeared, heart turned fragile, and vigor, if I had any of my own, turned yellow. And all this, it happened when you went away. Does that not make you a kind of a bad guy here? You spoiled me with the overmuch affection and love and care. Now, that is being ungrateful, you’d say. I do not have any right to blame others, even you for the matter of fact, for my own weaknesses and failures at being independent. The fact remains though; you spoiled me in a way I never came to realize until it hit me, until it hit me so hard that it took more than my energy to get back on my feet.
But all of this, this phase of my life, it took place years back. It took me years to learn to walk on my own, to ride that bike without anybody’s (your) support. And now you are coming back. After all these years of distance, you finally, after having achieved your dream, are coming back.
Am I on cloud nine? Am I shedding happy tears? Am I dancing my happy-dance? Am I going crazy with the news? With a pen running on this paper, I, apparently, am doing none of the above. Such a melancholic scene at the should-be-happy time, you’d wonder, my love. Even I am wondering the same.
Am I not happy? Am I glum about your return? Cannot fancy about such a thing even in the strangest dreams of mine. Yet, these actions and reactions tell a different story, don’t they? I am not sad; that is an assured fact. But why am I not feeling the butterflies in my stomach, the way I had always thought I’d when you would come back? Why am I not feeling giddy? Why the goosebumps are nowhere to be felt? Why am I not doing the preparations I had planned years back? Whys and more whys? But who to answer them?
With us apart this long, it seems, now, to me, that this distance I used to lament over, had become comfortable and rather soothing, over the time. The distance has become comfortable.
After having all of my pieces back in their place, after having myself back in a piece, the way I should and have been all this along, I am afraid I fear of losing myself with your return. No, I still care for you and have the same untainted affection, but with you chasing your dream in the other city, I think I was chasing mine in this city. I did not know I had lost myself, until, one fine day, I found myself. And I fear I will lose it all, again, with you being here.
Am I being a pessimist? Is this being cynic? You are nodding, I know. I know you so well that I had stopped exploring my own self. My self had lost its way, and I never even cared of showing it the light, until you were not gone. Of course, for your sojourn. But once you took off from the city, my heart took off, too, from the messy puddle it was in. It found its way back, with the flickers of light I threw in its way.
My self thanked me that day, and it never fails to do so every single day. It always lives in a fear though; that I will abandon it again. And now you are coming back. I am looking forward to that day. I really am. I will remember the day.
DISCLAIMER: This’s a fictional piece; not a page from my journal (which I do not own, by the way).
No credit for the image used.
Copyright © 2018 by Idle Muser. All rights reserved.