A Story I Like To Believe
A Story I Like To Believe
Yet the sun didn’t bring any luck to my current state and I hope it has the same effect on you,
I sometimes imagine is there a Way you can be completely be free, free of what you think and free of being fearful.
I remember the first day I saw you, curious eyes with a hint of being brave that’s what you were, didn’t you? I wonder and think whether or not you become the same girl after that, was it me in a way that shaped you differently. God, I can never be more surprised at how much I love, so much that words sound unspeakably lame.
I was stupid yes that’s what I began this because still, I am. The street was crowded there was rickshaw, bikes honking incessantly to a point it feels to stop them pointing a gun, I have only imagined this far.
I forgot to keep a track of time, I literally standing and waiting for her about 5 minutes, that’s too much for me, don’t give me that look now, I saw a short girl holding a small book caught between her arms, wearing a short skirt which had a blue thread. As closely she was coming near I saw her smile getting broader with each step.
We shook hands, are you not going to college? I asked, She didn’t butch and kept walking like a grandfather, and didn’t say a word, we went for a coffee shop, while taking her first sip she looked at me, as she is about to go for a confession, like cheating, that was just in my head- we met for the first time.
She said, I know you are in love with some other girl I can sense that- this mere statement made me re-think everything about her, what the hell! How did she barely know all these?
I didn’t say the thing, I was staring at my coffee while she being the orator.
As I looked at her, she smiled and did not say anything. That’s the day I realised I am about to get into a tragedy a love tragedy perhaps.
Her name is Purobi, even though she hurt the shit out of me, I still like to cling to that name for a moment, never mind heart does not say anything it’s the stupid mind.
Every time I went out with her I saw changes that are inevitable, something I could never change forever.
It’s like vodka, you don’t feel it when you take the sip by sip but as you realize you have taken couple of pegs it just hits you and you feel why you did all these.
The way she hugged me, while I was fuming and she kept her head on my shoulder, her kiss was a sign of a total surrender and so many small details me made me fall for her, the urge of her has become more intense than life itself her every reaction mattered to me, like I am unconsciously repeating her every word.
It came to a point where what she is doing every minute I needed to know, who is she talking to and what not – such was my state, even though she uttered on every fight that this is becoming beyond understanding because I was occupying every minute part of her life.
I remember the day vividly may be I will not remember my death more than this, it was Sunday afternoon and she wanted to be home and have some family time so I texted her last around 1pm and went out to meet my friends on the way she stays, I was sitting behind the bike while this strange urge of meeting her came to me, something was miserably wrong that day , so I told my friend to stop the bike I needed to meet her, he said whatever and stood there smoking, as I was approaching her place, I sensed there is something terribly wrong, so I knocked the door and I saw his ex-boyfriend opened the door , I was fuming and in a fit of rage I wanted to see her , I tapped my foot on the ground and went inside the bedroom , there she was lying down on the bed and sobbing, like she did something taboo or beyond her rights, I don’t know may be her loyalty went for a toss- perhaps the last time something broke in her, may be her heart,
I was angry as angry somebody should not and I used cuss words – throwing all kind of accusation like she sleeping with him – he on the other hand was silent and smiling all the while – I took the right move something I never advocate when I am sober –
There was a sound, like a something broke in flesh and blood – I punched that guy , he stood there looking as if l lost he won, I extracted myself from there – on the way home I hated her so much that words will not fathom after reaching home my rage subsided and I realized I don’t have her anymore.
It’s like a becoming a slave that something other than you important so much that you can put your life ahead of it, It never came to my realization what sort of person I was becoming and what price I have to pay for that, I am not me I was completely driven by this feeling for her.
I called her right back,
And everything went normal and that’s most disrespectful action I might have taken, you caught someone on cheating and next day you diffuse and move on normally.
Yes that’s what I did.
And that was not the last time she cheated on me, I witnessed many more after that but I didn’t say anything and loved her even more, just like a loser who knows? Maybe I lost my spine or in the process of loving her too much, I failed to love myself.
Months turned into years and I became a puppet of an emotional abuse and yet there I was giving her all the comfort in the world and getting back words such as incapable and unromantic, nobody believed in me, in essence I was passed on as a cliche, a person who happen to be in everybody’s life- I hated everyone as much I pitied myself.
I was drained and I needed help but never knew how to voice it out, my health started deteriorating – each of my friends was against me – I was clouded not to understand that she is taking away everything and all that is left is just this need for her, our fights became common – hating, calling repeatedly and again fighting become a daily chore, I lost my job because of my mental health.
I had no money – no friends and an unhealthy relationship like I was put in an abyss and not feel anything other than self-pity and destruction.
Few months after her granny passed away and I was looking at her dead body only to realize how I am different?
She broke up with me, I never knew the reason –
Maybe she knew what I am becoming and perhaps she understood what she really is.
To love at all is to be vulnerable - Lewis c.k