Its when you are at the worst of your expectations of self that you know that you are still moving backwards,or at least trying to. Its difficult to not do that more often than not. But you need to, stop moving backwards. Its like everything passes you. Would you do it the same way over again in a breath.
That’s a difficult call, there are bits and pieces you would want to re work always. Relive some, erase some completely from every shard of memory. And this is where you realise it doesn’t matter at all. Not even a bit! And it should not be the trend of life to move backwards.
Its the ahead that matter, each done day should be trashed. Like the gmail trash button. Because that’s when you stop pondering dissecting and altering in your mind.
So today I make up my mind, cliched but true, live each day like its the end of your life and start one like its the first ever!
And I thought it would stay the same always, between us. Me wanting him, and the still distance. It was always for me the question of living up to him. Living up to what he would expect. The anger at his neglect, the long conversations, the never had dates, the hope that I fit in with those that are his. Always the fear that I am not grown up enough or intriguing enough. But somehow there was never jealousy. He mentioned once how he expects a woman to twitch. I always knew if he smiled about it, I wouldn’t dream of twitching.
But now that it’s time to let him go, maybe I am twitching. I don’t know if it’s ok or if it is supposed to be. But maybe, just maybe this is how it’s meant to be. I always loved Neruda, he talks about unrequited love being more beautiful somewhere. There is still that book he owes me. He is the whole concept of romance in my head. Always was. Everything outside what I could reach. I wanted to be mysterious, mature, happy and exciting. I have always said that women are different with men they want to be attractive to and a lot of those who know me say I never am. Somehow, I was always different with him, around him. I wanted to be better. I learnt long ago its a part of adoring someone.
I remember all the conversations, every single one. About the women he loved, and the women he found attractive and even those he did not care about. About the writers that inspired him, the minds that excited him. But there was always the one clause, never uncovering it. I am superstitious, those I love most I keep at the most distance. Isn’t it often said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. But distance also assures me that I will keep him closer. It’s easier always. Always. He was always the pinnacle of my concept of romance. What pains you is the loss of what you might have deserved. The loss of what you never deserved deserts your capacity to think, it strips you of the hope that someday you will bridge those waters. And that is why I always kept the distance. It is easy to discuss life and love but how do you talk about something you understand but don’t comprehend.
I remember he said once, maybe some other time and in some other space we would have been different. It was always extreme emotions with him. Always will be. Extreme anger, extreme love and then somehow thinking he was indifferent to it all. And now its like a funny realisation of the truth that he really was more than an arms stretch away even when I could feel his breath on my cheeks.
You are the extreme of my romance, the being of the chasm between simple love and the conspiracy that romance is. Always were always will be. And I hope someday I can explain better.
It’s been so long since I wrote. Well in all the work and the havoc that can be raised due to life itself, I had somehow lost out on the me time to write. But I guess major chunk of that has passed me by and now I am looking forward what next could be thrown my way.
I am waiting for some lightening to strike and tell me that my life is going to magically turn into something exciting. For a few days now I have been feeling a tad bit bored, ugly, uninteresting and lonely to name a few. It feels like I have stopped being the person I was. I smile and I am not happy cause maybe its not all the way down there.
And I wonder can the absence of someone in your life make you think like this. If it does than isn’t it just sad. I mean we are so tuned to think that we need someone in our life to truly enjoy it and relish it that when we have a perfectly normal life which could be going perfectly alright, we want to still find that someone. I infact right now want to look pretty for someone else. And I am looking at myself and laughing and wondering why do I want to do that. It’s a funny world we live in and I know its not just me. But we have friends, family and a lot more to smile for but the absence of ‘the one’ somehow makes all the difference.
I just want to wake up and jolt out of this wish if thats possible. I don’t want to be a believer inn fairy tales because honestly they are screwing with your mind. There is no Prince Charming and definitely no happily ever after.
Maybe I just need a break. Once just walk away from everything and take a deep breath and keep writing for eternity or at least for as long as possible. Or just go away and meet someone absolutely unknown and somehow be just myself because around others you are so tuned to being a certain image of yourself that it has now started to scare me.
There is a thin line between what you are and what you want to be seen as and what you want to be. Is it a good thing that these lines are fading or not. I don’t know. I don’t think I ever will. But then again somehow always, everywhere there is a black hole.
The stillness of my patience is losing inertia,
I wish there was a moment I could relive and rewind,
And there was the long due walk I promised myself,
and of disappearing that I would use as rebound.
A few friendships that are hurting now,
a few memories that I have yet to discard,
I am in the ferrous wheel of desires,
and its only inches away from the ground.
I write so I can feel,
semblance of thoughts is fading away,
its mechanical the truth of the threads in my head,
and there is one last lap of that merry go round.
So well, since its been sometime since I posted I decided to start with something I have been thinking about for a long time now. And I think its jealousy. Yup weird I know, but true. I think I am jealous a LOT, like more than an average person.
I am jealous cause a friend I love writes better than me, or I am jealous that someone has more blog followers, I am jealous if someone’s work is better appreciated. I am jealous if someone looks better. So half the day I am plain and simple jealous. But I realise that this sorta keeps me competitive. I am not dramatic enough to ‘conspire’ against people who I am jealous of (k serials would have you believe that’s the only way) I instead strive harder to do better. It can be very stupid at times. I end up doing long hrs at work. Doubling up work for self, sometimes being really bogged down. But it keeps me going nonetheless. Through my years of study I think I wasn’t an academic star because I was not jealous of those who were good at their studies. Its a weird thing to realise that you are better at something because you are jealous. Most people would mark it as being competitive.
I don’t know if I would call it being competitive. I think I am ok being jealous. But sometimes I think I push myself for that a bit too much. But that’s just me. Sometimes I can be evil jealous like get angry with a boyfriend cause of his ex, or angry with a friend cause they give another more attention. Is that really the two sides to a coin. Being possessive about people and being insanely jealous. I feel like I don’t know myself.
Just the other day I was jealous cause someone could save more money. But it makes me wonder is jealousy an unhealthy emotion. Or is it healthy and unhealthy depending on situations? Or am I like a friend indicated, stuck in some sorta quarterlife crisis. Sigh! I wonder where are all the answers, there are just too many questions for sure.