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.