So you're out, is it? You're finally out. The ball was neatly caught, and that was the end of you. Dismissed. You hang your head low, and slowly trudge out of the field. Level playing field. Uneven. But the next player doesn't come. I wait, and wait, but nobody comes. That's when I start to think. Who are you anyway? Who were you? What do I even know about you? Nothing.
You always wore shoes. Nike. The red and white that hadn't devoured many miles. That had a long way to go. But they were taking it slow.
Other than that, nothing.
You didn't like your weight so you would layer yourself in loose tees and floppy hair, camouflaging what you thought wasn't meant to be seen. What people might find ugly. The fear of what they would think when they found out that you weren't who they really thought you were, kept you from them. From people. But you would still be amidst them, making jokes, then laughing at them. And then bit by bit crying at the tragedy of it all.
So what more do I know about you? Nothing.
I hated your views, ideologies, aims and principles. But I secretly loved them. You hated mine. Secretly loved. Love, hate, passion. That's how we used to roll. No mush, and then so much of it. You hated the rain. I'd dance in it. Secret kisses. Holding hands when everyone was looking but not quite seeing. Only we knew how that felt. It's how we used to roll. Fighting, wrestling, mock upsetting, I love you so much it hurts. The texts that cornered, semi-opened eyelids, and then forced the unwashed mouth to twitch, and the lazy, non-stretched body to fall back into the feathers for just one more indiscernible second, into a reverie. Wasn't that how we used to roll?
What more did I know about us? Nothing.
"It's funny how when I'm drinking, I only think of you baby."
"No silly, I mean, in a good, happy way."
"Well then, happy Devdas..."
"Yeah, it's what you make me. Happy. Good night baby."
Smile. Click. Flash. Blinded.
This is all I know. Nothing.
I want you here. Just so I can hold you. Look at you. Talk to you.
We rehearsed for your play together.
I love you so fucking much. I can't bring myself to look at another girl. You're blinding me.
Snuggled up, sharing lazy kisses, you kissed me on my nose, and for that split second, even while you were looking at me, my heart could just explode into a million, tiny, ecstatic pieces.
I don't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to go today, I can't bear to not hug you before leaving. Today the urge was particularly strong.
Trembling feet, dreamy eyes, and a strong wish to dissolve and die of embarrassment. But you wouldn't let me do that. Your sly smile said it all. You were really enjoying this.
You want me there? I want you everywhere. Muah! I love you!
We didn't watch much of that movie did we?
Cool. I'll see you tomorrow only then. Once you get done.
We sat under the arches. Who knew it would be this beautiful in the evening? There was so much to say and so much to hear. But we couldn't push away the inevitable. I really wanted to though, trust me I did. You joked. I laughed. We cried. And then got so tangled up in each other that it was impossible to disentangle. Nothing is impossible. Bit by bit, we loosened every thread. Cut every tie. Painful, absolutely searing. But there was no other way. Remember that game we'd play as children? Doctor, doctor, solve the problem. The problem we create ourselves and then expect the doctor to solve. He eventually does rip us apart though. And that signals the beginning of a new one.
Why did you ever come into my life?
Expand your horizons, he says. I did. I swear. But you know what I saw? My horizons encompass you. From the blue to the orange to the pink to the yellow and even the grey. You, you, only you.
I know nothing more.
I suddenly really like my hair. You always thought it was beautiful, no? My palms, you'd like smelling. So I don't let the smoke stick on. I wash, scrub, erase. You admired my father. Can you believe he really likes you now? I miss having someone owning me. No you owning me. And how you took pride in owning me. How you showed me off. I'd nudge you, throw you a dirty look, but I really loved it. Loved how people saw us 'together.' As one. I knew you did too.
But besides that, I knew nothing.
I can claim to hate you. Hate you with all the willpower I have. So much that I'll form a bubble that shields me, gives me false hopes of protection. But then you come and put an arm around me. Ruffle my hair. Pull my cheeks. And basically take a needle and prick my bubble. Now that's why I love to hate you. Or hate to love you. Whatever. Nothing.
I'm making you larger than life. Stop me please. I know you don't want to.
I know nothing more.
But I love you.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Was there ever a line? If there was, I crossed it, long, long ago. I'm so far beyond that when I turn around to look at the point where I started I see only a speck of vanity, a trail of ignorance, but above all, I see innocence. I'm lax. But when it comes to you, I don't let go. I knew you. I know you. You seem so close. Close enough that when I breathe, your scent catches me off guard. I inhale and it's like a rush of that breeze I can't see, I can't control, but it still chills me, still makes its presence felt, in a way that it makes me stop and think even amidst the flurry of colorless chores, faceless faces and hands that touch but don't leave fingerprints. One of those days that I don't think about it, the breeze is even stronger in its intensity. You hit me hardest when I don't expect it. I've been walking in the desert for too long. So much so that when I spot that pool of water, I don't look left or right. I dive. You're beautiful. But only to me. Black, black, black, white. I zoom into you, as soon as I see you. No. Somehow, as soon as I sense you. It's not a war, I want them to know. I actually don't even care anymore. Because they'll think, think and think, but towards the end of it all, I'll still love you. And with so much pain that it's almost physically evident now. With so much intensity, with so much concentration that someday my love will be tangible. Something you/they wont be able to erase. In fact you'll have to think of ways to help each other shoulder the burden to just bloody get me, no not me, that one thing, out of the way. Romeo, you were always overrated weren't you? You may have been gorgeous, you may have been the ultimate, true love, you may have invoked the Juliet in Juliet, but you weren't good for her. You were parasitic. Who would've thought that life-giving love could kill? Brutally murder? You made it possible Romeo. You and your love that became an object, killed her. You and your other more vital, worldly things became the garland on her death bed. So what if you gave her something no other could have? So what if she'd wait for longer than eternity if only it meant a glimpse, a word, a touch, a kiss from you? So what if even on being given a choice she would choose a thousand deaths with you over another thousand lives without you? So what? What now? Paris. You are the easier choice. No let me not insult you. You're the more comfortable choice. You're patient. You're important. You're love with a whole new meaning. Sometimes I can't even tell the difference. There's nothing that's not right when I'm with you. But there is something wrong. You're not Romeo. You can't be him. And unfortunately for you, you can't even be my distraction. I love you too much to be unfair to you. So while Juliet could see Romeo, while she knew he existed, Paris must learn, must suffer. I'm so scared now that I hide my words behind Shakespeare's. He knew. It's not that I'm crazy. I'm a happy person. There's only an unhappy part of me, and it's growing restless. I miss non-conformity, but then again, how much do I know of it? This is probably the closest I've ever gotten. My eyes say a lot don't they. They always give me away. I don't want to involve, but someone, somewhere, has entirely different plans for me. What do I really want? That's immaterial. I could want to sleep on a cloud, I could want to hold a star, I could want to start over, I could want to just pause and feel what I'm feeling for as long as I'm feeling. I could want to stop breathing... That way, at least one sense of mine could be numbed toward all yours...