The Idea-smithy

After this, another string of random thoughts on breaking up and the afterlife.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

You watch them speak to and of the one they love.
And think, unflinchingly, that they don’t speak to or of you that way.
The only part that hurts is the realisation that they once used to.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

When you cannot remember what you were thinking or how you could ever have made that decision and conclude that you were a completely different person then- that’s when you know that you’re completely over them.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sometimes getting over someone or something is giving yourself permission to be happy.
At other times it’s letting go of the luxury of being sad.
And occasionally, it’s just realizing that you are bored of misery.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

You talk about forgiving and forgetting like one follows the other
And some people say that they can forgive but never forget
But in my mind, that’s still vendetta since the memory stays alive and hurtful
I’d much rather forget, even if not forgive
At least life can go on unbound by a straining bond

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

I am not sorry that you are sad I’m no longer a part of your life
You must be punished for the crime of having hurt me, after all
But I’m just sorry that it all still matters to me
Probably even more than my absence matters to you.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Love is the experience of a person, but also emotions, places, mementos and other people. Being okay with the person is just the first step and not even the easiest one at that. Complete closure is when the entire world that you’ve built and shared with the person starts to feel alright again. It is when, finally…

Friends don’t walk on eggshells around you. Friends aren’t unsure of how to behave with both of you.
Houses, roads, parks and shops don’t make you catch your breath because you were there with them once.
It doesn’t feel ‘wrong’ to be at a certain restaurant with someone else.
Watching a romantic movie or hearing such a song doesn’t send you down a trip of nostalgia.
And you don’t feel guilty about a gift because you’ve gifted someone else the same thing before.

But then, by that premise, there is no such a thing as complete closure. Love is a color that taints you forever.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

If you don’t care anymore whether they love you or not, perhaps you never really did.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Fear of loneliness is a good enough reason for a relationship, even if it isn’t a noble one. At least half the relationships around are founded on it and survive quite well.

Sheer habit is another such. What’s wrong with being in a rut? Some people call it stability.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Lack of excitement is a good enough reason for a break-up.
So is lack of commitment.
Far more than lack of love.

For love may be the name we give the ride, but excitement is the fuel and commitment is the nuts-and-bolts that holds the carriage together. And we all know what happens when you try going anywhere without fuel or in a cart that falls apart.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The experience of being loved is really as moving, if not more, than the act of loving.
So believe it or not, no matter how unfair it all was, there is justice in the end.
And they will probably miss you far more than you will miss them, when this is done.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sometimes a person can do you a great service by not letting you fall in love with them because they think you deserve better.
Even if you disagree, if that’s what they think, they are probably right.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

You have the right to be as miserable for as long as you want.
The grave stupidity has already been committed when you fell in love anyway.
Why feel ashamed now?

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Cheating and lying are unpardonable.
And it is divine to forgive, a sign of shining, enlightening love.
But no one said you had to be a superhero.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Breaking up can make you feel unlovable, like you were never really loved after all.
But there are many reasons to not love a person.
Duty, ego, fear, indifference, commitment-phobia, emotional detachment.
All of them realistic and logical, none deeply noble.

And there can be only one reason to love a person.
Because you do, that’s all.
That’s neither logical nor noble.
But yes, it is wonderful.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Some of us hold on simply to assure ourselves that we were really, truly, honest-to-goodness, till-death-do-us-apart, irrevocably, madly, fiercely in love.

Perseverance is more important than happiness to some. And ah, how hard we try!

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

If you tried and the other didn’t, consider that a gift offered wasn’t accepted. Whose loss is that?

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There are plenty of other fish in the sea.
But you can’t fish anymore if the last one reeled you in hook, line and sinker.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

When it comes down to it, no one is indispensable. If they had been, your lungs would have been attached to their nostrils and your stomach, to their food pipe. That’s a far more practical apparatus.

A lover cannot have been a Siamese twin. And vice versa.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Oddly enough, the very things that attracted you to each other in the first place are the biggest reasons for your breaking up.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Part of mourning the death of the relationship is grieving the loss of their affection for you.
The other part is grieving the loss of your affection for them.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

I have nothing left to give you, not even the benefit of doubt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Had a thought - a few actually - in the last fortnight, that I haven’t had a chance to put down.

I saw this movie and thought,

I see ghosts too. They hurt me sometimes. They talk to me. They walk around like everyone else. They are the ghosts of my past.

And then perhaps, as with Cole, my ghosts wanted to tell me something as well and it might make sense to listen.

Last weekend, I spoke to my best friend about him. Not in anger, not in pain but an unemotional reflective way, ending with,

You know, I think he must be thinking of me.

And then, in another conversation, was ressurected the spirit of someone who was once as dear as no one else has ever been and I ended that remisiniscence as always with,

I’ve never run away from anyone’s love like that. But then again, no one has ever loved me as much. I always wonder if somewhere deep down, even in me, lies the capacity for all-encompassing, womb-like comforting, parasitic, suffocating devotion. I’m a Cancerian as well after all. And I’ve always had a strange relationship with other Cancerians.

And then, during the week, seemingly after deciding in an idle moment to ‘talk’ to my ghosts, they came knocking on my door. His hello comes back like the years in between never happened. And her voice had the same warmth like my goodbye had not ever been said either.

My breath stuck in my throat at both times. And once I learnt to breathe again, I spoke to them. But they’ve both vanished. Odd, isn’t it? Like the only thing each of my ghosts had to say to me was,

Don’t be afraid of me.

Incidently, the most memorable scene in the movie (in my mind) is the one where Cole has his first encounter with a ghost that he doesn’t run away from. Sitting quietly in his little tent, as his breath starts to hang in the air and the clips overhead snap off, his eyes race down to find a little girl sitting in front of him. And in her eyes….there is only pain. So much of it.

How can one run away from someone in even more pain than oneself? And yet, we do.

Imagine spending two hours with a stranger, thinking that he reminds you vaguely of someone. Imagine talking, laughing, listening, joking, opining, conversing wondering all the while whether it feels familiar only because you’ve just done this way too many times with way too many people. Imagine feeling like you know so little about someone you call a friend and you feel like there’s nothing more you need to know about someone you’ve just met. Imagine having dinner with Nostalgia and realising suddenly over dessert whose face its wearing.

It’s him. The last memory of him has him in a green shirt. The spectacles are exactly the same as is the square-cut face. It isn’t exactly him though, since he was last seen years ago. So this is him, older, nicer, easier to be with. Him, nevertheless. But no…this is someone else, a perfect stranger.

Odd it took so long to figure that out though. Really, really odd that someone who feels like he’s embedded deep inside, one with your cells…is so hard to recognise in the face of another. I guess even memories like over-thumbed bits of paper crumble after awhile and all you have left is the vague recollection of something that used to occupy that place…sort of like a stray brown scrap of paper that’s floated off after the original has disintegrated. The memory of a memory.

Then you find yourself miles away from that once-so-familiar picture. Not only are you not part of the picture anymore but it doesn’t exist even without you. It doesn’t exist because it is without you. And here you are now, in a world new enough to be interesting, familiar enough to be comfortable..enough. And you’re having dinner with a stranger, not with your past.

Goodbye love, I never thought I’d say it this way.

Sitting cross-legged in the dark on the balcony
Uncharacteristically, enjoying the rain outside

Late in meeting a ‘no-future’ boyfriend she wouldn’t see for a week
He’d parted with longtime girlfriend..again

It wouldn’t ever be more possible or less tempting

I’ve to leave

Try not to go

Hesitating…

Forget the first word

………………………………………..
Secrets cause no casualties.

Her monotone, drained of exasperation, drawled

I can’t handle this anymore. I think we should stop talking. No more games.

A week later, much tempted, she thought

I didn’t say I wouldn’t call him though, did I?

Then she sighed and reminded herself that word solitaire was a game too.

He came back, as she knew he would
She took him back, as he knew she would

They made love. They both knew it.

He stretched and said

Next time…

She interrupted

There won’t be a next time.

Then she left.

Didn’t everyone know that would happen? Just not when.

One by one, each one left.

Some edged out sideways
A few had the grace to look sorry
And others shuffled their feet and looked about nervously
Before slipping out when they thought they weren’t being watched
Several melted away into the dark world of forgetting and being forgotten

But you just opened the door and walked out
An anticlimax exit to a grand entry and a grander stay
But all it was to you, was a passing through
And that is what hurt the most.