I’m so confused by my own choices. Am I making the right one? Did I give up too quickly? I miss the good and happy times so much, and now I’m seeing the potential for there to be so many of them. There was a dark time, why was I so affected by it?
The time when I watched such an amazing play with amazing company and still yearned for you to be by my side. When your name was said on stage, and my heart stopped. Gaurav and then my insides twisted and all the air left my lungs. I shrivelled and I wanted to cry. When I read posts and articles about love, and how love that lasts will last only through determination and sticking together through the hard times, I feel so guilty. And when finally faced with the possibility that we would have to stop talking, I feel this sense of doom everytime. When we had our last cuddle and kisses, and I couldn’t stop crying at the finality of it. Why did I rip myself away when it made me so upset.
“We were too good, and too intertwined to not spark and click again when we meet again”
The last time I wrote, I was happy and I didn’t do a very good piece. Then I stopped writing for a long time because I thought I was fine. I think one part of why I’ve got here was the lack of introspection.
Now I will write again, but pardon me as my pen is rusty. I bend it at various angles and the ink comes out in bits and pieces. Still, here goes.
I can’t put my finger on that exact moment I felt unhappy. Unhappy is such a poor word, it can’t even come up with it’s own personality, it’s just the opposite of happy, leeching off the meaning of happiness. No, this has it’s own definition, an unfulfilled heaviness. Why is it that negative feelings are defined with respect to the positive word? Unhappy, unfulfilled, disillusioned.
It was just building over the years, collecting its momentum from when I first got into a relationship. I’ve spent my whole life taking care of people, from taking care of my sisters to finding someone to take care of. And this isn’t a bad thing, but if my worldview and happiness became defined by loving someone else, then who am I really? It became such that I felt boxed in, molded by societal expectations and norms – to be faithful and love someone, one must push through the hard times, one must support each other. But I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to feel all these obligations weighing down on me, and be kept prisoner by these expectations that I define myself by.
Why be happy when you can be normal?