Cleaning up the mess you left.

When you left without a word, I thought it was my destiny. For someone who obsesses a lot on goodbyes, it felt like it was what I deserved – a no goodbye leaving. Thinking this, I quickly locked your room without giving a second glance. I had no energy to look at the mess you’d created, the papers on the floor, the clothes on the bed, the broken pieces of my heart all over.

For as long as I could, I went on with my life as if nothing happened. Nobody knew about us to begin with, we were the secret stories our friends hushed over the movie. So it wasn’t that hard. I even carried on sitting across the table from you in the cafeteria and pretended not to notice your occasional glances.

“Are you okay?” you once cornered in the corridor to ask.
“Why do you ask?” I questioned you instead.
“Just…”
“I have never been better,” I cut you off and walked away, holding myself together more than ever.

I read a lot during that time. About men. About women. About relationships that lasted and the ones that never did. I also read about heartbreaks. About being strong. About not letting the ones who walked away to have the power to control you. I read books. I read articles. I read poems like my life depended on it. And each of them told me to be strong, to realize that people come and go, what matters is me.

So, every time you sat across me in the cafeteria, or beside me during the lectures, or in the same group as me for an assignment, I recited the stories and the poems to myself again and again so as not to open up to you. Not to let the comfort of your warm body melt me. Not to let you take a peek of my milky skin longing for your touch or how dry my mouth has been, thirsty for the taste of your lips. It took everything in me to not to let you see how much you hurt me. That if you must or by chance you did see me hurting with anger and sadness, I wanted you to see it wasn’t because of you but the homesickness I always felt once in a while when the tides are fuller or because of my unconceived child slowly leaving my body or because someone, somewhere was hurting and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Of course I slipped, like any human does. There were times when I got drunk and kissed you or if I remember correctly, I became so ruthless that you left the party without a word, a goodbye. Or that one time, when I refused to even say hello. Otherwise, I was good at pretending to be just fine. I remember how quickly we went back to become the perfect lab partners we were a year ago. I went on as if you and I never happened; like as if you never mattered that much.

But today, I decided to open up the room you left in hurry. There are spider webs all over the wall and layers of dust everywhere.Today, I told myself I am ready to clean the mess you left. I am ready to flood the room with my tears if they hadn’t dried up already after being held in every time they’d wanted to rain before. Today, I collect the pieces you left scattered and today, I want to put everything together. Some pieces still have sharp edges, the memories pinch me as if it was just yesterday, like our kiss under the full moon. And by deciding to finally mourn for the heart you left broken, I hope that I am on my way to healing, that I will be able to finally let go of your grasp, fully.

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Sweet Talk.

Validate me with your sweet talk. Compliment on how my curls are working for me, each strand spreading out across my chest. Comment on my black dress hugging my body and its delicate cream flower patterns. On my red lips and my dangling golden leaved earrings. On how they make you feel, every inch of my skin, as my cold winter hands, slips into yours.

Lie to me on how you’ve never met anyone else, who would laugh with you in your jokes – on death, pain and sickness. Who could discuss with you on whether darkness is absence of the light or shadow is the darkest dark there is. On whether electron behaves like a particle or a wave (it behaves as both duh!). On the dominant genes you have (tallness, and curly hair are dominant by the way; not sure about your goofy smile).

Whisper to me how I excite you just by my laugh. How you can’t wait to dig inside of me, deeper than the darkest ocean. Explore every inch of my skin, vaster than the infinite universe. Love me like no man has ever done, nor will they ever do.

Validate me with your sweet talk.

For tonight, I will drink every word from your mouth as if they were sips of elixir I need to survive. I will savor your every move, from your hands to your eyes, undressing me inside-out. On this cold lonely night when there is a fire burning inside of me, of anger and guilt and hatred, I will take anything you give. Because right now,  for me, five seconds of the superficial bliss is better than spending a night full of self loathe.

#angerpost

 

You

Know that you can break my heart in millions of ways than it had been broken before. And the wounds you would leave behind would be so deep that it will take forever for the blood to clot. And I will have scars all over my soul, of cracks you left behind. Know that I was strong when those boys broke my heart. That I knew I would recover, it would just take some time. That I always heal. That I always move on. But you will forever be etched in my heart like a tattoo and the ghosts of your memories will forever haunt be like a childhood dream. Know that you leaving is something I prepare myself everyday for. Know that you leaving will still affect me anyway, in far worse ways that we can ever imagine. People leave or they die, I always say but know that you are not those regular people in my life. You were someone I would never risk having this close that we can listen each other breathing. You were always supposed to be far enough not to know hear the sound of our hearts skipping. Know that you are near now, and as much as I don’t want to burden you about you being home, but you are closer to it. Know that you were my friend first, the one I turned to in the middle of the night when my PMS is kicking in unknowingly. So I would rant and whine and say stupid things like I hate everyone but know that I never mean that. Yes, I hate people but you were never among those regular ones. Know that you were my friend first, someone I have always felt comfortable sharing my deepest secrets I never dared to share with anyone. You may not remember them and it’s okay. But just know that I will be lost completely if I lose you. Know that I will be empty if you run out. Know that none of those boys could ever break me but I would forever be broken if you decide to leave.

Know that you can break my heart in millions ways that it ever has been broken. Know that I just hope you won’t do it.

 

To you.

I was cold before I’d let you in. I was the one who left people because I believed that people always leave. And to protect myself from being heart-broken, I would break their hearts before they could break mine. I would run away from giving everything; stopping myself from falling too hard. I mean, I would fall too fast for people. And too hard too. But as time passed by, I would always bring myself together and let it go before I reached the point where I wouldn’t be able to let it go. And then I met you.

In your arms, I melted like the glacier lakes in April, bursting with love. I became the flood. But before I could flow through the rivers, you left after only few months, thus proving me correct. People always leave, don’t they? And if I wasn’t that afraid before, I definitely became scarred and scared of future and love more than ever.

But it’s funny how heart-breaks work. I grew up hearing stories on how heart-breaks and grief turned warm-hearted people into stone-hearted ones. But my story became an opposite one. When you left me scarred and scared, I thought I would never let myself fall again. Or experience the same thing. And that’s what happened for a while. I was afraid, I had shut myself up again. But man, I was wrong. Because the girl who always ran away from love and happiness suddenly realized that embracing them is much more meaningful. Remember how I used to tell you that happiness is short-lived and thus never mattered to me? Well now it does.

I was happy with you. I still remember the stupid grin slapped across my face when I was with you. I was happy for no reason all the time. Despite what was happening in the outer world, I was happy and I didn’t know things like that even existed till then. When you left, the dark days returned but having experienced light and knowing how much it was worth it, I became a light seeker. The one who pushed happiness away became the one who chased happiness. The one who didn’t take even a second to push people away became the one who gave them chances.

I became warmer after you left. My goal suddenly changed to embrace love and happiness whenever it come my way so that one day I may become as warm as the winter sun in the afternoon. I think I am still just lukewarm water for now. And it’s all because of you. Hadn’t you showed me what happiness and love is truly capable of, I would have never learnt that I was capable of being warm. And open.

I am not saying that I have gone on to believing that love and happiness lasts forever. I will be the last person to say that. I know it doesn’t and it probably will never be. But what I am saying is that, just because they don’t last forever, I no longer think I should be avoiding them or pushing them away. And it’s not that I am not afraid of heart breaks. I am, right now, more afraid of not just having my heart broken but also breaking someone else’s heart. But I still want to risk everything. I still want to choose love when and if it finally arrives. Because the few months with you taught me one thing – happiness is always worth it, even if it’s just for few moments. So I will risk another heart-break and another long period of sadness if it means I will be happy for a while. If it means I will love wholeheartedly for a while. If it means I will melt in someone’s arms and feel the molten lava coming out of me because of that love. Because love and happiness is worth it all. Because love and happiness is the reason why we are alive.

The end or the beginning

Remember the time when we looked at the chibahdyo in the middle of Thamel and tried to figure out it’s age? It was almost midnight and I thought how it standing despite the earthquake and me being there with you then meant something. I’d made you pass this chibahdyo during the day, walking the galli that would take you to my favorite coffee shop and somehow this very spot occurred to you when you had to give me the hug, the one that was supposed to last for a month, in that night. And this was where we looked at each other and looked at the monument, with many thoughts in our head running in the speed of a bullet train. This was where I put my walls down, let you in, and welcomed you in my life. This was where you told me you would be back soon, I shouldn’t be extra sad about you leaving, for I was already sad that you were.

But during the last few months, I’d learnt that the chibahdyo looked okay just from outside as it was almost all hollow from the inside. Right then, I should have known that this was also what was between you and I. We were perfect from outside but from the inside we were both fucked up and afraid. Assholes refusing to grow up and work with our issues. You were and still are stuck somewhere in your past and I was and still am afraid somewhere about the future. Today, or rather yesterday, as I passed around the spot, dreading to remember that night when you told me everything will be okay, I realized I can heal myself. Seeing the community members trying to restore the monument that is from Lichhavi period (yes, we were correct about the age), I realized I can also be restored. And I will restore. And I told myself that the chibahdyo that stood as the witness during the start of our story, will also witness me rising up from where I am, healing one messed up part at a time. And I hoped that you too will heal, and move on from what keeps you glued to the ground,  one broken edge at a time. Just like this chibahdyo.

A.N : This is part of the series I am working on called Mapping Kathmandu with Memories inspired by this post