If you dig deep into this blog, you will find that the first entry I’ve ever written, almost seven years ago, was about a boy. I met him during my first year in college. I couldn’t remember anything about that day now. All I could clearly recall was the sun, burning brightly outside the classroom like there was no end to its flames, and his smile, warm as July weather to my heart that was frozen as ice.
And just like that, I fell madly in love with him — no questions asked. It was as if I was caught in a trap, almost as if the Universe never even gave me a chance to run and escape, or never even asked me if I was ready to risk my heart for what would turn out to be a grand torment of an experience.
The past few weeks were trial by ordeal. I felt like a powerless peasant subjected mercilessly into some kind of a medieval torture machine for committing the purest of all crimes: love. I didn’t understand my punishment any more than I could understand what you said when you said you didn’t want this. I honestly thought I was okay with being just another person in your life, that I was okay with not being the one you share every moment of your life with. I honestly thought I was strong enough for the role with which you had me pinned, but I was gravely mistaken.
My head was so messed up that I thought I was going to lose it for good. I was l
ost and limping, and all I could see vividly in my memory was the night we went out for dinner, the way those blurry bright lights surrounded your even brighter smile, the way your hair fell in every direction, the way you talked gleefully about how you’ll always be there and how I’ll always have you.
But I never really had you.
Someone told me that it wasn’t love, it was an addiction. I was addicted to the feeling of being with you, of talking with you, of spending time with you. It never occurred to me that I could actually be addicted to you because all I ever knew was that I loved you, no matter how excruciating and heart-breaking it was to do so.
I thought I saw something in you — your heart, your soul. But perhaps all I ever saw was a projection or a character, because even after all these years, I still don’t really know you. But fuck all of that because I loved you, N. I honestly did. I was that person who wanted nothing but for you to be so genuinely happy and free. I wanted so badly to see your feet by the beach, to see your face caress the breeze, and to see your arms wrestle with the waters as you swim and be one with the ocean. I wanted you to be so damn happy, even if it is not with me, and I am truly sorry if everything I have ever said or done for the past month made you feel otherwise. I am sorry if I asked too much. I am sorry if I smothered you.
Every article on the Internet about forgetting and moving on speaks something about getting rid of items and objects that remind oneself of the memories of that person. But tell me how do I do that?
How do I shatter every street light and put away the glow in each of them, if only to erase the blinding sensation they bring? How do I excavate the ground and blow up the intersection where we met that fateful night in June? How do I clear away the invisible monument which we erected at that intersection in honor of our reunion? How do I remove these boulevards from the city map and muffle the sound of traffic every time I pass by them? How do I wash away the waters by the bay? How do I listen to these songs without ever thinking of you? How do I fucking forget you?
But do know that I was glad to finally see you again. I was glad to finally see that smile which I knew so well and loved so well. I was glad that you are okay, that you are coping. I was happy for the brief time that I was given to reconnect with you. All these years I asked the Universe for one more chance to see you and talk to you, and the Universe gave me more than that. But now I am returning you to where you rightfully belong, and that is clearly not in my arms.
Thank you for coming into my life, once upon a sunny day in July. You messed me up so bad but you also gave depth and dimension to this lonely little life. I do not regret ever spending all those years waiting and loving you, regardless of whether the one I loved was really you as a person or you as a fiction. I was thankful that I met you, thankful for all the plans that we made together, even though I know that we will never see them come to life.
Sometimes I wish I could wake up to a world where we can exist and never be strangers, get high and wasted by the beach, swim deeply in the ocean, form a hippie band, make music, and get matching tattoos together, just as you have said to me. But I know clearly now that all of that is fantasy.
I am taking back my life now as much as I am giving yours back. Hard as it may be, I am letting you go this time and finally surrendering you to the cosmic forces that drive and govern Time and everything in it, the same forces that drove me to you and brought our paths together, exactly seven years ago.
Thank you. It was nice knowing you in this life.
[end of epilogue]