Snippets Of Our Love (Chapter 1)

                                                                  CHAPTER 1

Sometimes, we love someone so dearly that we end up loving them for eternity, even if that eternity is misconstrued as loving someone in each of our lifetimes. I always assumed love like that happens only in books and cinema. Perhaps I stand wrong. I would’ve not known how that love feels like if I hadn’t ever met him. Known him. Or been with him. But, life isn’t conceited, it isn’t predictable. If I had known the intensity of emotions this love thing can be, maybe my past self would’ve never indulged in it. But knowing what I know now, it is hard to imagine my life without loving someone the way I did, the way I do, today. In a way that if loving someone would be equaled to breathing oxygen I would be alive forever. But somehow, sometimes, some things are only meant to be remembered in memory, sometimes living something can mess things up, and sometimes; re living is the only option left. Sometimes, even if reliving those moments are known to be the only source of a past door, a past box, and sometimes that box ends up being the Pandora’s Box, with every ugly and disaster outside but hope. The only good thing lying beneath it all shut. And hope is such a strong disastrously beautiful word ever. And perhaps, hope has been the only thing keeping me alive today. The hope of the return of my dearest or hope that I never think of my dearest. 

Today I am stuck between moving forward and reliving the memories of my past. Out of both, only my past has been able to comfort me. Since it is predictable. But I am young and don't know what the future holds in store for me. Perhaps an eternity of happiness or despair. It’s uncertain, for the past 2 years I have found comfort in my past since it’s the only predictable and certain thing. Has it been breaking my heart over a hundred million times, every single time I’ve thought about it? Yes. It has been a weird contrast between the past present and future today. Every time I decide to move forward and catch a glimpse of my future, my past intrudes on my present knocking on my door and reminding me how it is still there. How it has always been there. How it can give me warmth and comfort and how heartbreaking yet predictable it is. For the past 2 years, every time I take one step forward, I take 4 steps backward too. 

It is depressing really, but maybe that is what love is. Love has never been equipped and famous for giving comfort and a safety net, it’s been uncertain and nerve-wracking. It has been lessons and lessons and lessons, and maybe the bridge I’ve built to move forward is way too weak with the intensity my past has made me feel. My past is heavy, and this bridge does not have the very strength to allow me to take it forward with me. But this past that I have on my back, I can’t seem to unload it, on the ground. I haven’t been able to dig 6 feet and bury it in the ground, say my piece, and move forward. 

What is so witty and beautiful about this love is, even though the source of it decided to leave, it stayed. It stayed comforting me, telling me that one last thing is yet inside Pandora’s box, keeping me company and comforting me on the days when I felt like dying. 

It’s not that I had been pining over my beloved since he left. I have reminisced about him but also, I’ve been indulging myself in various adventures as well. Going on dates, meeting new people, being open to new experiences per se. But apparently, that has not been enough to keep me busy. He somehow has found ways to interrupt my subconscious, and it has not been an easy road as well. Like I said, every time I touch the slightest glimpse of my future, he grasps hold of my entire existence. 

So now my days are more indulged in drinking wine, sitting on the couch watching some comedy series, going to my 9 to 5 job; working while almost on the verge of an emotional breakdown, with the sufferance of a loss, a cosmic loss. Staying empty stomach till it starts to ache because only that can somehow make me feel alive. Doing all the mundane activities, while listening to all those songs, which we used to sing together at the top of our lungs. It’s been easy. It’s been alright. At least I’m alive. And sometimes happy too. It’s just a cosmic loss of my dearest not that he has somehow died, right? Hence, hope. 

I sometimes wonder and more so hope, that he remembers me, by the littlest of the things. Like being there for him, and being distant, and hot and cold, and all the backlashes, all the happy moments or the sad ones. Moments where there have either been all good or all bad, and no in between, moments where I stayed up all night waiting for that one text the whole day, that he said he’d send. 

Because I do, I remember everything from the beginning till the end. And somehow, this end doesn’t feel like an end. Last night I couldn’t sleep because of how fast my heart was beating, it felt like I would have a heart attack, breathing exercises somehow weren’t helpful. 

It's all pain and shit until I remember how he made me feel. How he made me feel that I am the most beautiful person ever, with the biggest heart, until I remember how I had him. How he is the only one now who has ever had every inch of me. And no, not just the body, but my heart and soul and mind and every little bit of everything that I am made up of. Love, darkness, sweetness, the mean side, the pretty one, the crying mess, the indecisive, the bossy, the submissive. He accepted me through all of that. And somehow that is the only thing that matters at most. Because in the end however bad that person was to us, we only end up remembering the good parts of it, that is the only reason people usually go back and yet back again in an abusive relationship or a toxic one, because yes it did cause pain but there were times when the moments were happiest than ever. His love was like that. Slow, sweet, rushed, painful, sour, ugly, and beautiful.

He made me feel something I have only seen in movies. Unrequited love, sounds like a fairytale. I am living that fairytale. However far I run, I always run back to him. And he shelters me. I could never figure out if he was the nicest human since he always took care of me or the worst ever for he broke my heart into a million pieces. It’s probably going to be up in the air, just like it is always going to be up in the air if he’s ever gonna come back. It’s unlikely though, but sometimes my intuition shouts at me so loudly that it feels like he just might come back. It’s like a movie after all. Both of us being the main character of this masterpiece. A cinematic masterpiece!

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© Arya Ruth