Separation

It’s been a while since I last saw you. You seem to have changed a lot over the last few months. Perhaps a little too much, for it took me some time to recognise you in your new form. I liked the old one better, I reckon. After all, the old one was something I could relate to. The old one was someone with whom I had a lot in common, and made a lot of memories. They say the new you is a better, improved version. But I don’t buy that. I can’t buy that. For the old one was special, to me.

You seem to have filled the void created by my departure with new faces, I tried the same. I tried filling up those spaces too. The difference, though, is that whereas you succeeded, I failed, and I failed quite miserably. I failed like I never had, for you must be accustomed to people making exits by now, while I kept searching for you in the people I wanted to fill your void with. You got over me, and I remained stuck with you, for I have had very few specials to myself. I became a forgotten memory for you, while you remained an unexplained pain, for you learnt to be detached over the years, a result of perhaps the innumerable pains of separations over the years; I, on the other hand, was – and am still, prone to getting attached to people quite fast.

However, I urge you to not fret over my rants now, for while it will take perhaps a lifetime, I can very well move on from you. For the wise men have said that nothing is permanent, and that perhaps applies to the pain felt by our separation too. And if you knew me well, you must know that I can pretend to have moved on from you till I actually do. But I will, eventually, for you no longer need me, and I must act the same till I feel the same.

I will move on after all, and then, perhaps one fine day years away we will meet, and greet, and talk about the weather over a cup of tea – like old friends – but for now, for now, let me live in your pain. For this is my fuel, and I can’t stop till I let it all out. Till then, let me live in your pain.