When I say, "I love you," it holds a depth hidden within. It carries my ego, my sorrow, and a desire to hear, "I love you too." In it lies the innocence in your eyes, that tender part of my heart that can't handle itself, and a dream I see. This dream brings me comfort beyond my limits and overflows through my lips as I say, "I love you."
Days have passed; you've gone, and I'm trying to forget you. But your face keeps reappearing before me. The way you said my name echoes in my ears, and once again, I lose control. All the strength I gathered throughout the day not to think about you shatters in a moment. And then, facing the memory, the sorrow, I start feeling small. I wonder if there was a way I could have kept you close, and I curse myself for not being able to hold onto you, for letting you slip away. I can't put my pain into words, but I long to have you back and wait, hoping that one day you will return, embrace me, and once again say my name, saying, "I love you."
Today started out well. I worked and dreamed new dreams. I hadn't intended to include you in these dreams, but somehow, you still appeared in them. Even after achieving everything in those dreams, there was an empty space—your shadow occupied it. To fill that space, to escape that void, I placed every dream of mine there, one by one. But they, too, merged into the emptiness. All my desires faded away, leaving behind only one thing—your shadow. In front of it, I broke down in tears, whispering between sobs, "I love you."
I couldn't stop myself again today, and I spoke to her. She still talks to me the same way, and she still loves me. No matter how much I try, tears come to my eyes the moment I see her. I don't want her to see me crying and blame herself. I may never understand why she left, but I can't call her back against her will. I just hope that one day, in a moment of solitude, she thinks of me and returns. I will wait for that moment and try to forget her. But I wish she hadn't given up so soon and had given our relationship one more chance. My only grievance is that she didn't try a little harder and include me in her decision.
Even now, I sit with hope and remember all those moments we shared together. Sitting by the sea, talking all night, feeling restless all the time just to be with her, and dreaming dreams together where nothing was just hers or mine—everything was ours. Walking her to her room, standing there and staring at her door for a long time, and imagining that one day we would have a home of our own where we would live together. With her, I could share anything; I could cry, be happy, love, and care for her openly. She accepted me completely. But now, she hasn't left alone; she's taken all of that with her. Now I just sit like a stone—wanting to cry, but unable to. Wanting to feel joy, but unable to summon any feeling. I miss sitting with her and talking to her. And as I write this, every word brings her face to life in my mind, with that sweet smile of hers that's kept me going until now.
I don't know why I'm writing this. Why am I making this futile attempt to reach you? Why do I keep bothering you with calls? Why can't I just leave this wound as it is? I don't know what solace I hope to find by picking at it again. But this is the only way left to soothe my unease. Yes, it makes the wound fresh again, but somehow, it also feels a little better. Maybe this cycle will continue until this wound finally heals.
I called her several times, but this time she didn't respond. Now the truth stands before me, and I can't ignore it. Now all I can do is wait for that meeting we had planned, but maybe it will never happen. Yet I will wait, because that's the only way left. If that meeting doesn't happen, we may never meet again, and this story will remain incomplete. But we will meet; we have to meet. There are still many pages left to write in this story. There's still so much left—to embrace her once again.
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Mumbai
After moving here, I didn't make many friends. Then, suddenly, I became part of Sonia's friend group, who went out partying at some bar every night. I went with them that day because Sonia was there too. We drank beer late into the night. Then Abhi and I went out for a smoke.
"I really like her," I said.
"Who, Sonia?" Abhi asked.
"Yes."
"But I think she likes someone else," Abhi said with disappointment.
He told me that among the people from the previous batch who came here to learn tattooing, there was a guy Sonia liked. I felt disheartened, cursed my luck for a while, and then continued smoking. Just then, Sonia came outside. I looked at her and asked,
"Want a cigarette?"
Taking the cigarette from my hand, she said, "Your t-shirt says 'Nirvana'; do you want to get there?"
There was a curiosity in her eyes—maybe to understand me, or maybe to find something about herself through me.
"I don't know, I'm just wandering. I don't know where I want to go; all I know is that I need to keep moving," I replied.
Perhaps she didn't hear me, or maybe she got her answer—she drifted into her own thoughts, giving a faint smile.
"I'm leaving. Let's meet tomorrow. It's very late now," she said and left.
I wanted to stop her for a while longer, talk to her more, but I couldn't. I just watched her go, waiting for the next day, thinking about her.