Losing you for the first time gave me a deeper understanding of pain. Of the unbearable ache of lost love. I lived those dark nights when I'd stay up all night, staring at the ceiling, weeping, cursing... hoping. Those helpless days when I'd struggle to swallow every single morsel. I had lost my appetite. I'd spend all my time crying... until I could cry no more, because my eyes got fatigued, too swollen to even open properly. Losing you for the second time, has turned me bitter. I am now at a place where I can understand and empathize with the cynics, the heartless. I understand why someone would want to destroy themselves and the world. I can feel that fire in my chest, that's raging to set ablaze everything that stood in the way of our love. And I don't care who burns, how brutal it all turns. Where there was love, now dwells hate. I choose to be bitter. Because I'm tired of being sad for the pain.
A strange fear has crept into me. Fear that somehow I'm losing you. You have become like the edges of that dream I keep fighting to hold onto. I've been paralysed with this fear, of being helpless, as I watch you slip away. My heart has been ceaselessly fluttering, to the anxious imaginations and unpleasant possibilities. I've been losing hope. And I'm dying to make it stay, screaming, weeping... Please don't go. Something seems to have descended between us. Something that has obscured my vision. I do not fear letting you go, as long as my heart is replete with hope. No matter how false, no matter how fake... I need just one lingering thread, that you'll return someday. I've been throwing my limbs into vacuum it seems. Suddenly the lights have been turned off. And I'm walking through an empty universe... searching for you, searching for me, searching for us.
He found himself running away... away from her. Even with a burning desire within him, all the passion and lust and love. Even when his entire existence craved nothing but her, he found himself running away. And that left him confused. 'What on earth am I trying to do? I want her. I love her. I crave her. Then why am I running away. What am I running away from.'
He was running away from himself. She had become a mirror for him, in which he could see all of himself... the ugly, the beautiful, the broken, the whole... everything. He could see his journey. His mistakes, his achievements... all the trauma he faced. It all hovered upon him and haunted in a way that he had never experienced before. He grew afraid of what he saw. He became scared of his own self... even the silhouettes. And dreaded the day when god forbid, the beast in him would hurt her. 'What would I do then. I cannot destroy her. I just cannot.'
And hence, he ran away. Even as she sat there, smiling, waiting... in faith. For she knew... one day, he'd get tired... tired of running. He'd stop someday... somewhere, and rest. And then he'd pick himself up and rise again. Until then, she let him go, let him run... away from her. Who knows... maybe somewhere along his way, in the middle of his run... are present, all of his answers.
People have been so used to violating the boundaries of others that they don't understand the word No. No means no, doesn't pertain only to the purview of sex and physical violation. There's an emotional space, a mental space, a spiritual space and if you're pushing your way into someone else's territory... without their permission, even after they clearly said that this move of yours was not appreciated... you my friend, are a trespasser. A criminal, an abuser, a violater. You are entering a space that's not yours. Claiming someone's time and energy that they don't wish to spend on you. It exhibits lack of respect and self respect. So how do you understand if you are welcome or not? It's simple, very simple... Ask. And accept the answer. Don't try to manipulate it, twist it or read between the lines. If someone is anything but enthusiastic, about a certain proposal of yours... it might be them giving into relentless persuasion, guilt trips or anything else... but it clearly isn't consent.
When I found him, he was starving for affection. And he wasn't even aware of it. All he could see was, my need... my need to be rescued, from the cage I was in. And all through our escape journey, he very cautiously hid his needs. Never really letting me see his sinking eyes or emaciated skin of self worth, hung loosely on the bones of self esteem. He was a skeleton of everything he could have been. Yet he insisted that was all he ever had to him. It was heartbreaking to see how he went on helping everyone else, with a genuine smile... without ever listening to his own internal screams. He had been carrying so much for so long, I could see his luggage was heavy... and most of it, probably unnecessary. But he refused to sit and sort through the mess. And I don't blame him, there was too much on his plate... too much that couldn't be eaten... it was all stale. Yet he sat with it, for someome had told him years ago, that was all he'd ever get. So he protected that chaos with all his might. He wanted me to come near, I could see it in his eyes. But he was afraid of exposing me to the stench... that'd emanate from the decomposing bread on his plate. I was not leaving. Not leaving for sure. So I sat opposite to him... waiting for him... as he stayed there, clutching his emptiness with one hand and fingers of another rolling on the stale bread. I created a safe space... and allowed him the time, time to acknowledge his emaciation... his need to be fed.
I was constantly at war... dying to feel something... to end this numbness in my chest. To cry somehow... like I used to. I wasn't accustomed to this dry spell in my heart. Found myself running from heartbreaking movies to books with tragic plot and sad songs... anything that'd hurt me and make me cry or at least help me feel something. Yet another part of me, feared getting even an inch closer to emotions. For every step I took towards my feelings, that part put up another lock on my heart. With every passing day, I was becoming this isolated something, dying to feel... but locked in a hundred locks, behind a thousand gates and thick walls. A part of me was saving me from something that another part didn't wanted to be saved from.
Dear @whitewings, this post is inspired by yours. The credit for this writeup is yours completely, even with all the changes. Thank you for writing what you have written and thank you for being so inspiring as always.