Of Love and Other Words

Of Love and Other Words

“As much as it hurts, 
Ain’t it wonderful to feel? 
So go on and break your wings.
Follow your heart till it bleeds, 
As we run towards the end of the dream.”
Evanescence
***

Diary entry – January 2007

Dear Diary, 

I dunno what I was thinking. I stole this from the stack of unused office diaries that Dad always gets on New Year. I read somewhere that it helps to write stuff down. So, well, here we are. Hope he doesn’t search too hard for this! (Finger crossed, lmao!) Even before I start, I am thinkin’ how on earth I’m gonna hide this from my parents??? 

Mom! If you found this just STOP READING NOW! Argh! There is no effing privacy in this house! (Fml)

So! Nothing much to report tho’. It’s near about midnight, we had the stupid daal roti for dinner. Again! (Sometimes, I think Dad just doesn’t have any taste buds left whatsoeva! Anyway, I’m going to read some and then sleep. Will try to be regular at this. 

P.S. Supa excited for da new HP book this year! EEEEEEEEKKKKKK! <3 <3 <3

Happie New Year! 

***

Diary entry – July 2007

“Do not pity the dead. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love.”

Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows)

  1. S. Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!!!! My heart is a puddle! I don’t know if I should laugh or cry or just hug this book till eternity passes!
  2. P. S. Man, I suck at this diary writing thing! I haven’t written anything after that first night! (Facepalm) I think I kinda forgot about it for a while. Just finished off  Deathly Hallows, and it is the middle of the night (no, actually, pre dawn!) and I just HAD To SCREAM!!!!! 

Anyway, will try to write more. Off to the second re-read. After I catch my breath! See ya! 

***

Diary entry – July 2008

Of course there is Love. THAT kinda love… It just HAS to be. 

Because, if not Love, then what? What is the point of all this? Wouldn’t life be a dreary, endless, unescapable labyrinth, of fruitless toil and unendurable pain, if not for that one window which opens to the outside?

Isn’t the world full of love stories like that? Stories that light up the mess that is this life; like the moon on a starless night. Stories of such magnificent melody, that no being, living or otherwise, can hope to remain untouched. 

Yes, there has to be love. I try to envision a world that exists in its absence. It’s an impossibility. A farce. I wonder if this is how the devout feel about God? 

This year I’m wishing for love! THAT kinda love!

***

Diary entry – February 2010

This is insane! We spoke for six hours straight tonight! I don’t believe it. This has to be a dream, right? 

***

Diary entry – April 2010

All it takes is a second, a look, a smile, an epiphany

To know a face from many, to recognise a voice, in a symphony

A gentle touch, a warm hug, to heal a soul of its agony.

To find a friend, a long lost love, in a crowd of millions,

Call it what you may; luck, coincidence, destiny.

It is one of those things that are just meant to be.

A happening of sorts, a chance event,

Finding life out of a dream.

Hardly known to each other, such irony!

Strangers in love we are, you and me. 

***

Diary entry – March 2012

Been so drowned in deception, that the first breath of realisation killed me. 

***

Diary entry – October 2012

Would be easy to live alone, would be easier to die.

If there was no one to hold on to,

no one to care,

no one to wait for,

no one to cry.

Would be so easy to vanish, so much easier to walk on by.

No one to cherish,

no one to treasure,

no one to remember when you are gone.

Would be easy to be forgotten,

so easy to not ask… why?!

***

Diary entry – March 2013

i shut myself away

in the recesses of 

that one memory 

where everything 

went dark.

it’s the last place

i remember 

seeing myself.

***

Diary entry – January 2016

I found love; 

Iike a drowning person finds air,

desperately, gratefully.

I embraced life; 

as if I’d never known it,

unexpectedly, pleasurably.

I woke up;

and found myself,

astonishingly, intimately. 

I found myself. 

I woke up.

I embraced life.

I found love.

***

Diary entry – October 2016

This year I wished for love. 

I threw caution to the winds and awoke a heart that had been long afraid to feel. I found someone and immersed myself in the joy of knowing another soul, and laying bare the depths of mine. 

It was wonderful. An awakening of summer in the recesses of a barren wasteland. It was every miracle, every blessing and everything good that exists in the world. It was like the very first embrace of a mother with her child; bliss – warm, eternal and inevitable. 

We spend our lives wanting, wishing; for happiness, for ambition, for dreams and for peace. In our mad race towards the ‘then’, often, we completely lose sight of the ‘now’. We become so blinded by our passion to gain our heart’s desire, we never stop to think of what will happen when we finally achieve it. 

This year I longed for love. 

I vanquished my demons and marched head first into the tunnel of love, that maze of horrors that is determined to shred you to pieces, and yet, you cannot help but welcome it with open arms. 

He made me laugh. It was as simple as that. He would say the most ridiculous things ever to have been said, and I would throw my head back and laugh until my heart fluttered with life inside its cage and tears of joy leaked out of my eyes. He burrowed into my loneliness, one silly quip after another and I let him. 

Perhaps, he was the one for me? 

All those words that I had redacted out of the dictionary of my life – butterflies, somersaults, rainbows and music, blushes and head rushes – flooded into my being and swept me off my feet in a dazed spiral of remembered wonder. 

He is gone now. I was not the one for him, he told me as he walked away, taking with him the shattered remnants of all my rekindled spirits. A summer of love, leaving behind nothing but a vast expanse of colourless autumn and a white winter. 

This year, I loved. 

***

Diary entry – July 2017

This year I turn 28. 

I don’t know who you are, or where you are. We haven’t met, at least not yet, or if we have, we haven’t arrived at the point where I see you as the one for me; my partner, my soulmate. 

The night is inordinately quiet and I need to talk to someone. So, here I am. An hour past midnight, and, on behalf of all foolish, die hard romantics everywhere, I am writing a letter to you; the one for me. 

Consider this a vessel for all my fears and dreams. I hope I find you one day, so I can give this letter to you. I think I would like you to read this and know that I have been looking for you, for a very long time. 

I think we can begin with confessions; best to be honest with oneself first, right? Despite what I portray to the entire world around me, I do not want to be perpetually alone. I do want a partner. But, I have been told, time and again, that my preferences for that someone, are so stringent that the chances of us finding each other, and falling in love, are extremely low. And, so, I have deliberately kept my hopes to a minimum. 

The most intense of feelings, as far as I can surmise after a deep analysis of my emotions, is the constant ache to be held. I feel it deep inside my bones. Often, on nights like these, when I lie awake and relive the years gone by, and ponder those to come, I can feel this longing in my soul. So primal, so… urgent, that it takes my breath away. 

I wonder if other people feel this longing? This is not something that is talked about usually. I think it should be. Maybe then, knowing that those around us feel the same, we won’t have to bear the pain by ourselves. Maybe then, we will have some company while we drown? 

This space beside me on my bed. This space between me and the world… this unnaturally large personal space. I want you to fill it. I want you to be there if I reach out on sleepless nights; to know that you lie beside me. To feel your presence in my absolute loneliness, will be like my very own miracle. 

Yes, I want someone to talk to, but more than that, I want someone to fill the silences with. I want to hear you talk. I want to listen to you describe your hopes, and dreams and your fears. I want to share rainy afternoons with you. Books, and a cup of tea and togetherness. I want to spend this interminably long night in your embrace and wake up next to you. I want to be able to sleep in peace. Content and without this feeling of missing that seems to be my constant companion. 

I am scared that I will never find you, and this thought terrifies me. Aren’t these things just meant to happen? So, why hasn’t it happened to me? With me?

I try not to think about this too much. And, usually, I am extremely adept at it. But, sometimes, the hurt grows so much, that it is beyond my capabilities to bear or control. 

At times like this, like tonight, I allow myself to cry silently into my pillow, while the ceiling fan in my room squeaks away all my pain. It is an annoying noise, but I don’t want to turn it off. I worry about the silence that will beat it’s drum in my heart as soon as I turn it off. I am afraid that silence will bloom inside me until it engulfs me and I lose myself in the void, never to be found again. 

For now, I am going to let the fan squeak. And I am going to try and sleep in the ruckus; because the alternative is a silence that is too loud to bear.

I hope I find you soon. I need to tell you all of this. This year, I am wishing for love. Again. 

***

Diary entry – February 2021

Gaining your heart’s desire is a tragedy. Somehow, they never tell you that. And, perhaps, now I know why. 

Half a decade since he sauntered into my life and left. With the blessing of Time, I realize that we were not meant to be; not in the sense that the Sun is meant for Day, or the Moon for Night. 

His purpose in my story was a different one, although just as significant. 

I still cannot describe, at least in so many words – why I loved him. His arrival had changed something, transformed some unknown, unnamed thing inside me; something that had held me back from love for seven years. 

Two thousand five hundred and fifty five days, spent with none other than myself. Not unhappy days, no, not by a long shot. But, yes, solitary days. Days spent in self-love and growth and inner peace. 

Days, years of denying myself the luxury of love. Walling myself inside the safety of my cage, scared; terrified of another heartbreak, of being left behind. 

He came and for the first time in seven years, I allowed the wall to break. I decided it was time. He was a good man; kind, charming, loving. But I had met kind men before, I had had the pleasure of being sought after by charming men before.

Never before him, however, had I decided to let anyone in. When he came, I decided I was finally healed. And, so, I jumped off the edge into the unfathomable unseen of this tragedy called love. 

Half a decade since, and the love of my life sits beside me as I write this. My heart swoons and threatens to submerge itself in the giddy relief of having found the one. 

If gaining your heart’s desire is a tragedy; then, by all means, give me tragedy. I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

This year I wished for love and it found me. 
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One thought on “Of Love and Other Words

  1. “my heart fluttered with life inside its cage and tears of joy leaked out of my eyes….”: deeply passionate take on lost love. A love that leaves scars so deep, even time can’t heal.

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