Shit. This is the third time I've woken up from a light, drug-induced snooze in the past one hour. It's 2 a.m. now. Wow. Not the first time I've seen this hour, and it's definitely not the last. But it feels different, somehow. Perhaps it's the painkiller talking. I had to take two shots today, so I can be perfectly sanitised (and disease free) when I land up in Berkeley.
It would be nice if they manufactured painkillers specifically for the heart.
No, really. Mine is feeling like a wrung out sponge now. I kinda hoped my doc would stick his long, scary needle through my treacherous ticker, and fling it out onto his white disinfected floor, so I could spit on it, tread it to a mush, burn it to a cinder and then flush it down the toilet.
Anything for this terrible pain to fade.
I know the Universe will probably hate me even more than it already does, for insisting upon inflicting my private griefs on unsuspecting bloggers. With all due apologies, this is the only way I know to heal. As Ram helpfully pointed out, I'm an 'interior-interior' person (while Nithin is an 'exterior-exterior' person). I cannot cry easily, I live in a state of constant denial (hence the insomnia, and hence the dark circles, and hence the pacing around...but I digress), and nervous laughter is my preferred form of venting.
I don't want to be an interior person anymore. Cause I simply can't be brave about this.
And why am I turning on my histrionics, you ask? That's a good question. The answer sucks, though. I broke up tonight with my boyfriend of 9 months(effectively, 3 years). It was my longest 'steady' relationship. It was the first time I got dumped. And, most importantly, he was one of the few people I'd let inside The Core.
Ah, The Core. My lil stone heart has a tiny corner (walled by an indestructible fortress), open to very VERY select people. To some degree, I think we all have that. Well, the fortress to The Core is locked, and I swallowed the key long ago. To gain access to my heart, you had to dig rellllllly deep.
Stupid Nithin. Idiot boy. Sigh.
Despite my fierce resistance, he stole that key.
Everything smells, looks and feels different, even though its only been a few hours. A veritable lifetime. And going off to my doc's appointment didn't help distract me- the radio seemed to only play OUR songs(including his horrible caller tunes), people kept calling and messaging to enquire about what is really none of their business, every CCD we drove past caused my guts to shrivel and eyes to smart; even opening my tote was unsafe, because a glance at my Pooh keychain(that he gave me) or the Mocha sugar packets(which I flicked after long, sultry afternoons sitting with the hookah) made my intestines feel like spaghetti.
And listening to stupid couples dedicate songs to their special 'other-halves' made an invisible fork churn my spaghetti intestines skilfully with its tines.
I don't wanna hear it-time will heal your wounds, you will fall in love again, blah blah. I don't care. I read somewhere that the Y-chromosome is steadily shrinking. In a couple of million years, the male species will disappear! Hallelujah!
I try. I do my best. I try to forget how he held me when I was hurt, moody, or happy. I try not to remember how he smelled, brayed, gulped water, flushed, smiled and blew smoke rings. I've numbed myself to the more painful memories-how we walked to school in the rain that evening, how he looked when he slipped that ring on my finger, how we completed each other's sentences, how he gave me telephonic kissies when I needed TLC, how we both wept when we finally accepted that we had to let go. How we'd've done ANYTHING for each other.
'Relationships of all kinds are like sand held in the hand.' How many times have I heard that? The pressure of the transition to college made me cling-and subsequently the sand flowed out. Awkward pauses reigned; simple words led to fierce fights. Everything that had once endeared you to me now felt like a thorn in my side-specifically, my backside.
I knew it was coming for months now. Incredibly, I didn't have the courage to break away. The temptation of freedom was strong, but the dependence, even stronger. I realise now that every fight, every hurtful word, even the past scars, had fractured our relationship. I refused to face the glaring facts; I mean, there IS something wrong if 'I love you' is simply used as a synonym for 'Bye'.
Such a tempting, tantalising, torturous game. 'What if...?' What if I'd given US more space? What if I'd curbed my reckless tongue and fierce temper? What if I hadn't hung up on you earlier today? What if we'd tried, one last time, to work it out? But there are only so many times you can piece together broken china. After a while, the effort is simply not worth it.
Even worse is the treacherous game of 'How much longer...?'How much longer before you stop haunting my every other thought? How much longer before I get more than a couple of minutes' sleep each night? How much longer before I stop thinking of you as Fixie (the pixie), Froggie, Fakeo, or even Nostril hair??? How much longer before I smile and laugh? I remember asking you, quite puzzledly, 'But Nithin, without you, how am I supposed to breathe?' It was a sincere question. But I'm doing OK now. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. After a while, I'll be able to do it without effort. I'll be able to get out of bed every morning and sleep soundly every night.
Unbidden, come thoughts of loneliness, insomnia, you dating another girl, us drifting apart... Losing you, even now, seems transitory. But this time, there's no turning back.
You were always a terrible friend. Remember? You start asking me out again after barely 2weeks!!! But you know too much:) I can't let you go.
That's another thing. You know more about me than anyone else in the whole wide world, including even Shirin. But you understand little. Remember all the times I forgave your lapses, and smiled when my heart bled? Then again, perhaps I pushed you over the edge with my mood swings, my tantrums, my emphasis on language...
No.....I'm doing it again! The 'What if?' I've gotta stop!!! But I'm kinda accepting it now. And I have a feeling that things are only going to get better.
This is an 'interior' person's goodbye....A last effort to describe what you meant to me, how much you altered my life. Mere words can't do that. We grew up together, and such shared history, such linked emotions, cannot be circumscribed by the written word.
Remember what Dire Straits said?
'When you gonna realise, it was just that the time was wrong Juliet?'
Whatever. It will take me tremendous self control and considerable time before I stop making excuses and sad faces. But I will learn to complete my own sentences, warm my own hands in freezing theaters, and buy something in a shop if I like it (this was usually your prerogative). I will learn not to call you as soon as I wake up every morning, and do my best to start listening to music again. I will smile, and not bleed. I will remember the good times, and feel grateful that it ended on a high note instead of a sour one. Maybe one day, I will understand why this had to be.
But it's so hard. So very hard. Anyone who has never been burned will never understand. What do they call this pain? Withdrawal symptoms??? I think I have cancer really:(. A weird affliction that worsens each time. I admit I'm unlucky in love; but with you, I've been very, very lucky.
I will always love you. I know we made the right choice. I just wish, with all my heart, that it was a choice we'd never had to make.
The author apologises for the utterly pointless rambling and hysteria, but shamelessly admits that writing public articles about such events makes her feel infinitely better.
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