Memories and Stories

For the love I imagined I did not get, but expected to get from my dad, for the hurts I wanted to replace, for the slight I recieved from my parents, I turned to another man, and another and another and another, for love and fulfillment. The men never stopped coming, I never stopped seeking accepting, expecting fulfilment. One after another and another and another, all I got was disappointments. Went are such seals. They're tiring. Finally, after 12 years of dating different men, and a woman, at 27, I feel sassy, content and confident. I'm exercising self control, learning to set my boundaries, and meaning No when I say it, and standing by it. Finally, I'm growing. I do not need nor want any men as anything more than friends in my life. I'm sure of myself. I want to protect my space and time, and work on myself. That's it. That's all I want. 12 years. I've finally had enough. *burps*.

How do I tell the heart not to hurt.

Har baar khud ko bolti hu, "Bas ab nahi". Harr baar kambaqt ishq kehta, "Ek bas aakhri".

I stopped seeing you in dreams. Yet I often knew who you were from stories.

Life is like a field of paddy stretched as far as you can see. Life is also the small narrow path connecting each square of paddy to another and leads you further.

I give love, yet why do I feel deprived of it. I feel dried out of it.

we lie here, both of us on our backs, thinking our individual thoughts. We're both quiet. We have been throughout the day, and the day before, barely managing to make conversations. Now you've turned away from me, curling up as you do while I turn to the other. We're both quiet. Neither am I trying to make conversations anymore. I'm finally no longer trying, pretending things are ok, or you are ok. Something is wrong, between us, and you are no longer with me. I cannot go on as the same either, I can no longer pretend. I'm exhausted. It's exhausting to love you as if nothing happened. Nothing is the same, and I am finally tired.

Loving you is exhausting.

We're like a game of carrom, choose whichever one as yourself, I'm the other. Never to be a team, never to win together, never together in loss. Only on a board, being played and potted by our separate destinies.

I didn't know I could love you, until I did, days after days of looking into my screen and laughing at the things you said that I no longer remember, except that you made me laugh, and then not realising I had fallen for you. How could I have fallen for you. You were like me. I fell for you and not your gender I was made to realise. You love people and not their gender I realise now.

My mother keeps mentioning we're no longer kids, and I agree. Then she keeps reminding me we're old. There, I agree again. But she doesn't mean older but old. Old I suppose is an euphemism for "You're no longer young and in your youth" or "You're over ripe and past your prime". In the marriage market, I'm 26 and closer to being rejected more often than not. Because I am no longer young and desirable. Because by now I have a mind of my own and no that's not desirable, but men are so weak that they only like meek mates. To hell with your archaic men. I don't like being put in a museum. So excuse me family men who like their wives mum!