June 25, 2014 § Leave a comment
the piece of glass breathing deep inside her neck or the blood it spilled all over the mirror as she kept it there
moments that elapsed between two kisses or metaphors that forgot how to twist some meanings
pathetic poets who are loved by the herd or the meanings that do not seem to trespass the mind of the commons
the food you eat every single day or the amazement at which you look at the moon every night
blunt razors that graze on rough beards or sharp ones that like to bless the skin with cuts
the ice in your glass that melts as you talk to make your way into them or their indifference towards your thrusts later on
a frightening glance at someone passing through your closed eyes or the smile of a stranger that does not trigger a response
a bewilderment that finds itself going mad at the outburst of stability or the drops of rain that never return back to the clouds
the search for meaning in existence without trying to live or the death that is constantly nearing without your approval
shouting in an inconsolable silence, they are all growling to find a way to migrate and to burst open into that song Floyd once composed
(oh, damn, it hurts so good!)
June 24, 2014 § 2 Comments
The night had fallen. She gazed out the window and stared at the moon, the faint glow lighting up her face. It was not a pretty sight. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, oblivious to the tears running down her cheeks. It was a night, just like any other night. The darkness, a reflection of her own agony. She was too young, too weak to be alone. But that day, just like every other day, she was. In the confines of her own four walls, cries so loud, yet no sound was heard. She sat there, thinking about what life ever gave her that it didn’t take away. She was a young butterfly, a bird who had just found her dreams. She was a lighthearted soul with stars in her eyes.
Dreams. She had dreams. Dreams she weaved out of every minute of her every day. Dreams that didn’t let her sleep at night. Dreams, that everyone she knew ridiculed her for. Dreams, that her loved ones refused to let her chase. But she was a young bird, and like every young bird she flew. She stumbled, then rose. And then she fell. In love.
This night, like every other night, she glanced at her phone. She ached to hear his voice again. She had an insatiable desire to hear him call her name. Her whimpers, muffled by the pillow she held so tight. Muffled by the pillow she liked to believe was him. But no pillow, no picture, no memory could change the fact that he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there for her to hold, he wasn’t there to play with the strands of hair that would often cover her face. He wasn’t around to let her bury her head in his chest and forget about everything. But not the world, no. For he was her world. And then came the earthquake. The man she called her own, whose eyes she saw the whole universe in, wasn’t even hers to begin with. A man whose name was joined to a woman’s long before she knew him. A man for whom she was simply one of many. The man who took away her reason to live and who took away the life growing inside her too.
She was broken. Shattered. Damaged beyond repair. He didn’t break her heart, he destroyed her soul. Everybody thought she was crazy. And crazy she was. Crazy enough to still love him. Pathetic enough to yearn for his touch every single day. Nobody cared about her life. Nobody would care about her death. Even the mighty fall, and the cowards give in. She stared at the moon, slowly drifting away into the abyss of the heaven above. Or Hell. Both were better than her life anyway. The pills made her happy. Or maybe she couldn’t feel the pain anymore. She didn’t care. This was her moment to fly. Her moment to grasp at whatever was left to hold on to. Yet she drifted aimlessly, taking one last look at the moon.
They all thought she was crazy. Now they had proof. No note was found, just an empty train of pain and nothingness. Of abandonment and apathy. She was gone, floating somewhere in the stars, relieved of the tears and misery. And long after she had faded away did they realize, all she wanted was to be someone’s favourite. All she wanted, was love.
June 23, 2014 § 2 Comments
My life is a series of unrequited love. The only difference is that I never knew the dictionary word for it or even the meaning of it until recently.
Imagine your heart being broken by a hammer constantly and the sad part is that you crave for it. You want to break it, smash it against a wall..because that’s what you want..The passion of a heart breaking.
Hence in this series of unrequited love let my name be anonymous. Let love be anonymous.
I was in primary school in love with my class mate. Our “love” relationship extended only to the point where he used to pull my hair. One day I wrote “I love you” at the back of a notebook and that guy showed the notebook to the teacher. Naïve that I was I actually didn’t know the meaning of those three words, all my limited knowledge came from movies. And that was the first heart break if that was love. I am confused for now.
Years later, when I was around 16 or 17, an anonymous caller used to call our landline number. And those were the times when cell phones were non-existent. The caller knew my school timings and used to call regularly when I came back from school. He didn’t talk much, except heavily breathe. I had fallen for him, only for the obvious reason that he was the first guy I was romantically involved with..someone whose name I didn’t know. Yes, studying in a girls school has its own disadvantages. I realized much later that he might be only interested in lust. Once he asked me the color of my bra. I had learnt a important lesson at the age of 16 or 17, that bras do come in different colors too.
So on, during my 20s I was in and out of love, out of relationships which I thought would work, would return me the same happiness and love I tried to give.
IT never worked out. Every time my heart broke, I thought I would be stronger, but it was the same..each time you fall in love its like the first time.
And it was unrequited love, people expecting you to change your very essence, the way you think. And you think to yourself that this was not the reason why you had opted to be in a relationship in the first place. I wanted to ask them, why do you fall in love with me In the first place if you want to change me.
It was a series of broken illusions, like a magic trick but not working in my way though. What I thought was love, turned out to be lust. And what I thought to be lust, turned out to be love in rare case.
I could go on and on and this post would never end. And like my best friend said that I should be looking for the best in the worst- each relationship offered me to explored myself (literally and physically), I learnt different cultures, unrequited love fuelled my creative juices.
Now at this shore of my life I am in love with someone. And I also know that I will never be able to tell her. But her very smile makes my day. Falling in love with her was like falling in love with a book you would read and re-read a thousand times in your life time. I will never be able to find someone like her. And I don’t want to. I keep on dreaming about these fantasies that we are together staying in a remote city. But such fantasies are just fine on papers and in dreams.
Let it be, so my heart says. Sometimes I feel like I am trapped in a box and feel Asphyxiated. I want to scream and shout at her-don’t you see that I am in love with you.
But let it be, as my heart says. For unknowingly she has mended my heart, given me friendship and memories worth of a life time. So if this is unrequited love, then let it be. IT hurts, but it heals too.
June 22, 2014 § 2 Comments
For long I thought I might not write on unrequited love. One of the major reason being I do not think it existed, atleast not in my case.
June 22, 2014 § 2 Comments
I’ve always just really really believed in the power of love. Love – in the most beautiful and it’s purest form.
I’ve always believed and thought about unrequited love as beautiful. Beautiful because it’s selfless and unconditional.
Beautiful because you don’t stop giving even though you don’t receive which is okay.
I’ve never thought about love as a contract. It does not matter if they don’t love you back. They don’t have to. I’ve always thought about real love as loving someone without any expectations in return.
Why do we always long to be loved back!
I’m reminded of a beautiful quote I happened to read somewhere
“Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.”
June 21, 2014 § 2 Comments
What does it mean to be unrequited? I’ve heard the word all my life and heaven knows I’ve felt the true depth of it, but what does it really mean? It’s one of those words that’s become so ubiquitous, I’ve learned to understand it contextually.
According to the dictionary unrequited stands for “not returned or reciprocated” or “not repaid or satisfied.” Not repaid or satisfied. As though love were just an outstanding debt on a balance sheet, glaring back at the end of the year as a nagging payment to be received.
Which makes me wonder.
Do we love to be loved? Or do we love to envelop the people we love with all the warmth, care and affection that we can possibly muster?
Do we love so we can feel good about ourselves? Or do we love because someone else’s happiness and joy matters to us as much as our own does.
Do we love to evoke heartache and misery? Or do we love for the moments when the smile on someone’s face, the warmth of their embrace, the comfort of their shoulder and the peacefulness of their presence are all that stand between us and a day well-lived.
Do we love to be bound by desire? For darkness? Or do we love to be filled with light and to be set free of ourselves.
Is love an act or a state of being? Is it something I do or is it who I am.
There was a time in my life when I would have sat by myself, brooding and dreaming up scenarios that would have earned any movie director an Oscar.
You know the whole deal. Rainy evenings, sad songs, deep sighs, drowning in chocolate, puffy red eyes from crying too much. Of course I’ve had my heart broken. Who hasn’t?
Wisdom is a painful but everlasting friend to acquire. Certainly, there’s always a huge price tag attached with gaining wisdom, but then we’re all better off for having it. Wisdom taught me that:
1. Love and lust are not the same.
2. I don’t have to lose myself in love to BE in love.
3. When the heart breaks, it also learns to mend itself. All those years of pumping blood? It’s a strong muscle!
4. The person who demands my identity, my sense of self and manipulates me doesn’t deserve my attention, let alone love.
5. I will never spend as much time with anyone as I will spend with myself, so I deserve to give myself MY best.
It took me years to understand and acknowledge that while I waited for the return of my affection from someone who either didn’t feel the same way or was just stringing me along, the very worst was happening.
You see, while I was growing up, I realized I was in danger of becoming my own greatest, unrequited love.
How could I ever justify that?
How can you?
June 20, 2014 § 5 Comments
I don’t even know if I know what it is properly. Maybe because whenever I have felt something which was not requited I called it infatuation. My first crush lasted I guess five years. It got over when I thought I was in love. But today I think he wasn’t love but was my first muse. Back in those days, I studied literature, and absolutely loathed studying poetry but then this guy walks in with those greek God looks and I started to scribble. I hardly have much memory, but I know, I had lonely nights where I just wrote and in the college I roamed here and there to catch a glimpse of him. I think I even changed chairs in my class once to sit near him. And maybe even smiled when he took my notes or said thanks. Man, those were the days. That was the closest I could get to love then. And I benefitted. Few of my poems were published and I found a talent I never knew existed. Also, I got a taste of love that isn’t mine.
Then, came another one, I crushed on. I think everyone but me knew I was infatuated. And somehow he never liked it. He almost scrapped my heart out. It was terrible. Yearnings I came to know then. But he marked his memory forever. For he was also my first kiss. A very beautiful one. My heart desired more and I messed up the friendship. And we became strangers. But then somehow things happen for the best. For he never happened, I would never had met someone who I cannot define.
I called him the friend first. Then a best friend, then my first love and ultimately my soul mate. But I am talking of unrequited love right, so how can we talk of lovers ? Well, sometimes lovers teach a bit too much about it. He taught me love, strength, patience and lot many things. But more than anything he talked me what is selfless love where we are fine with them not loving us our way. That is unrequited love too in a way. It took a great deal for my heart to make that person my greatest weakness, and it took lot of strength to make him accept his love for me. But I won. Love won. Just that destiny failed us. And ever since, he stays as the greatest love story of my life till date. We maintain the fallacy of friendship but still cannot talk about our lovers. My heart skips a beat when I see his picture. I have moved on, maybe. But he is still that piece of my heart that still feels the same. I never could gather the courage to meet him again. For if I did, love will come flooding back and destroy me.
Of late, I relish in the idea of unrequited love more than going and expressing it. Maybe being in love scares me. I infatuate, I cherish people I like. I write about all muses I meet. But I don’t seek a story. I like to yearn, I like to feel it from afar. And then when I take a step, someone just destroys me. Someone just did that. I was on a step to love and they stepped far and cut me off their life. I was hurt. But more than anything I was taken aback at the coldness which humans have now. They express all their love till we are ready. And then. Maybe, that is just me. Maybe, it is the expectations of the heart which want more. But then I love and hence I feel and so I write.
Somehow, life has taken hold of me. I don’t really care or love that hard. Infact, it doesn’t matter. I have a hard time to trust. I somehow wonder if love is even for me. For all my life, I loved more than I got and I just lost the patience. Or maybe because I showered all my love to that one person that now I just cannot give. I can give from far, like unrequited love. But when I receive, I question it.
Maybe that is one reason, my muse is just that for a long time there. When I first met him. I knew we could write a tale together. I longed to touch the cervices of his scars and tell him I can heal. Below the moonlight night, when he sang, I wanted to quieten his pain. When we shared coffee, and he talked of his dreams, I wished I could share it with him. And now when he talks of loneliness, I wish to sit aside and listen. But alas, I can’t even embrace him or hold his hand. Kiss would be too much. It is not like I cannot. I fear, I have lost the capability to love, once I get the ‘ one’. Maybe, I am just too used to unrequited love to ever be able to relish mutual love.
That is just me. I lost feeling the love when people show too much of it to me. Maybe I like challenges even in love. But I still believe. Because only love is what can make a happy destiny. I believe someday that shield from my heart will go and I will love with all my vulnerabilities. But what hurts is, till that right one comes along, lot of players might attempt to bruise my tattered heart. I do not really allow it now. But we have our weak moments, where we just want a caring hand. Maybe, age is catching on me. And I detest loneliness. I am vulnerable and yet shielded. And it is scary to think that in that double protection game I will attract only the wrongs and repel the right. For I distrust all humans now. For what some evil ones did.
I am made for loving. Maybe even unrequited. I am made for longing and spilling it out on paper. I am made for lonely poetic nights and cold tears. I am made for lot of things. But I still believe.
I believe there is reality beyond unrequited love for everyone.