And so where do I begin? I feel like the bloke in the picture. Just as you, I’ve not really made up my mind about the person there. Is he walking alone and lonely with thoughts weighing down his heart? Is he walking alone , smiling at his contemplation about the things around him? Is that a wistful walk burdened with broken emotions? Or is that the way a liberated soul finds the sky to soar high? I guess I’ll never know today.
What hurts the most? Is it the end or the beginning of a chapter that remains disjoint from the words of the past? I sat and thought long and I’ve made up my mind. What hurts the most is the shattered self that feels broken because it wasn’t deemed precious enough to hold on to. There are days when I feel that.
There is no saving grace here. There absolutely is no silver lining on the damp blackish gray clouds. Parting ways sucks no matter how we choose to see it. In time, and when I say in time, I do mean after ample days of stomaching a never ending void that sucks the living joy out of the very fabric of what makes you you, one finally gets saturated from all the sadness and bada bing, movesville!
Nothing lasts forever. I thought they did. They just don’t. What remains is our unrelenting attitude to hang on to thoughts that sadden us and we keep clinging on to an image of how we thought we’d feel crushed. Real sadness, the one that bites into us, that never lasts long. Thoughts remain to be the only residue. We grow accustomed to our loss that we choose relive the moments that were. Such a sweet comforting space that reduces us to a mere living dead.
All the songs and dances and a realization later, the only thought that lingers is that of leaving behind a meaning in someone’s life. What did you stand to represent? What did you mean to them? What was your impact on their lives? The acceptable BS is along the lines of , if only there was a struggle to the separation, maybe things would have been fine.
That’s the catch. There is no immediate happy outcome to being ousted from heaven. It hurts. Hell it does. We are once more left with deprecating thoughts about how worthy we are. The ego bruises and it bruises plenty. If only we knew how much we meant to someone and how much hard the journey must have been for them to letting you go!!!!!!
I am but human. I take a little comfort in knowing that casting me off from their life was one of the hardest thing that they had to do. But that happens in the stories that I write. Real life, not so much. People meet, people greet and people pack their bags and leave and that’s that.
What gets left behind are days like these. It’s on days like these where I run a montage of the million wonderful moments spent together in my head. It’s on days like these where I find the warmth through sheets and sheets of thick ice that enshrines my stone of a heart. It’s on days like these where I put my faith to words to fish out a weird reason that strangely justifies everything and helps me pretend that everything that conspired , conspired because there was a better plan in the scheme of things to come. MAKTUB makes a wonderful Deus Ex Machina!!!! Beat that!!!
Takes me back to the bloke in the picture. As long as he walks and by implication, As long as I choose to walk, there is HOPE. Amen to that. A mind is a terrible thing to not waste, and reveling in sadness is the lousiest way to fry a mind.
A lot of words later, I neither have the courage nor the strength to leave the words that I want to leave. Life of a wordsmith. I guess it never runs out of tragedies and dark comedies! It’s awesome to be a wordsmith.