An Introductory Letter

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What My Breakup Taught Me – II

What My Breakup Taught Me – II

“Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats.”

-Voltaire

Phase I: Regret

“Wake up”, said a faint voice from a distance. “Wake up”, my mom tapped my shoulder. “We’re back home!”

A part of me did not care about the fact that I had an amazing vacation, that I got to recompense for the lost time with my parents, that I could not wait to go back home and tell my friends all about it. A part of me was stuck on a loop, with an innate desire to go back to a certain instant, and relive with the hope of a possible change. And this time, I knew exactly what that moment was. But what hurt me more than the fact that I could not blame it on oblivion and make peace, was the fact that I could not make it happen, and I could not witness the Butterfly effect, even if I traded it with my conscious existence.

I could not go back to where it all started.

But right now, I had the power. The power to express. I found myself back in my room. My own room with my own things. Things that would never betray me in my most vulnerable form. And I cried. I cried a lot. I cried till the moment I was exhausted of doing so, and I lied on my bed, staring at the slowly moving wings of the ceiling fan.

How do we always land up in the exact same scenario?

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What My Breakup Taught Me

What My Breakup Taught Me

“Isn’t it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle–it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key. It’s not an act of bitterness. It’s an act if self-preservation. It’s not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it?”

– Ally Condie, First Day

 

It was the twenty fifth of December. I was in Singapore, vacationing with my parents, and it was the last day of our vacation. “It’s 11:53. We should sleep. We have a flight to catch tomorrow”, said my father, as he tucked himself in the generic hotel bed. I glanced over my Instagram one final time, before following suit. And I saw a dream.

Usually, I forget dreams in a day. But this was different. It was probably the first time I had exclusively dreamt of him. Running his fingers through my hair, telling me how nice I smell, holding my gaze and smiling at me. Before this, I had almost always had nightmares; from friends being shot dead before my eyes, to being abandoned by my parents in a foreign land. But this. This was so unlike my regular sub consciousness. Of course, it was not difficult to embrace this change. But just then, there was a shift in scene. It was dark and mellow, and I could see the strained rays of the evening sun outline through his black silhouette.

I was scared.

Continue reading “What My Breakup Taught Me”