the shadow you leave behind

there is a universe where all the words that you type into a chatbox and then hit backspace on, go to. they exist in limbo, outside space-time, with no trajectory, no orbit, and no way of getting to the person that they were meant for. their purpose lost or incomplete, they bump into each other in a darkness without hope, light, or stars -- disposed off, left to be forgotten.

as you examine the scars of your past and tear away at the scabs that itch and remind you of how you got hurt, you often open up a wound that you thought had healed, and as fresh crimson blood pours out unfettered, you lose yourself in a spiral of all the pain the blood reminds you of. with no intention of stopping the bleeding and no intention of realising that you have come far from the moment in which you were inflicted with this wound, you think only of all the things you could have done to avoid getting hurt in the first place.

sometimes the hardest thing to do is to wait.. to take a step back and do nothing but count the breaths that heave in and out of you, while you wait for the pieces to fall into place -- for it to be the right time, hoping you will be in the right place when it is. sometimes all you can do is make sure you keep to the path you need to be on, and leave the rest to be figured out for you, by the Powers That Be.

i queue up a playlist of post-rock and contemplate on the year past. so much to be sad for, and yet, i feel more content than i was when the year started. i write down everything i am grateful for, and breathe a thank you to each of my reasons for being up tonight in contemplation. may they reach you in anonymity at a time when you doubt yourself and need a small push forward.

As I take a walk down the closest memory-lane, I come across the shadow you had left behind (this time around, last year) -- a pixelated glitch that cut through the fabric of the cosmos -- in it I found all the thoughts and words and emotions I backspaced out of existence because I felt like it wasn't for you to hear or see or think of me thinking. i think of all the times i wanted your name to pop up on my phone, like deliverance from the Rapture by Gabriel himself. i think of all the moments that I wanted to share with you in the musky darkness of my dimly lit room, or on a terrace, or while on a drive. i think of all the times i wanted to hold you hand. i think of all the times i simply wanted you around, like a sought-after cure for the emptiness i carried inside. i think all the times i had to console myself with a distraction because i did not have you to absolve me of my loneliness.

I think of all the times when I tried to tell you about how you make me feel only for you to say that you understand and relate (not that you feel the same away). I think of all the times when in trying to talk about your pain, you spoke of memories of someone else that haunt you with fleeting joy and endless sadness -- memories that I imagined in a hypothetical life with you. I think of all the times when the person i imagined you to be with me, was the person you were with someone else, and even when it feels like a kick in the gut, I cannot help but feel sorry that it did not work out for you, and that you had to feel the same feelings that you made me feel by not being my person.

there is something oddly sobering about realising that the person you have been craving for the longest time isn't, and never will be your person. bittersweet, yet liberating, is what it is. coming to terms with such a revelation is up to you, whether you leave it for later, or murk about in it, or let it pass through you like a kidney stone in your heart.

this revelation comes in small waves, and is a lot like the Six Degrees of Separation (stages of grief).

1. you start by ignoring every indication that it is not meant to be.

2. you feel angry when your emotions lie untouched, invalidated and ignored.

3. you bargain with yourself, telling yourself that you don't deserve anything more than you are getting at the moment.

4. you hit rock bottom because the life you imagined is different from reality.

5. you come to terms with what is, and accept that this is the life you need to live

6. you construct a frame of reference that helps you understand what happened and yourself better, thereby nullifying the sting of your experience

much like post-rock, everything about you has a touch of melancholy. i wonder if that is what intoxicated me most about you. The Powers That Be really do have a sense of humor, because they pushed me out of my grief, in the process of you talking about yours. Am I over you? maybe someday.

the shadow you left behind is no longer a tear through the fabric of spacetime. the words I left unsaid no longer drift in a dark nothingness, I pulled them out and laid them to rest in the memory of the You that could have been.

the shadow you left behind is now an extra chair in the living room that will remain empty and unused, but with a cup of hot coffee offered to it on a rainy Wednesday evening when I wait for the moon to shine again.

just as the clock is about to strike 12, i wait, wondering if any message is going to pop up. a small indication of someone who values me enough to think of texting me in the midst of fireworks bursting in the winter sky above them. i already know the outcome. i am waiting in vain. the only feeling waiting for me at the end of the running minute is disappointment. and then a switch flicks. instead of waiting, i do something that i have never cared for in my life -- i text everyone I think of. They deserve it. If they need to, they can borrow my belief in them, until they are ready to find theirs again

For মন. I do not regret that you were never my Sunshine. In a parallel universe, maybe I am yours instead.