Thinking Of You

Damn u, damn u to hell and back. For being strong. For being indifferent. For moving on. For living life. For taking a second chance and a third and a fourth till you find her, ur true love yet again.
When im stuck. Unresolved. Undecided. Vulnerable and hurt. Scared.

No. I don’t think of you. But thoughts creep in. when I least expect it. And when I push them away, dreams weave a story. Or is it nightmare. U, I suppose will never realize. It is just an obsession. That we are not together anymore. Maybe I would have gotten over you had we still been friends. But talking to you was suffocating. It was getting claustrophobic. I was feeling closed, caged. Frustrated.

Me thinks me moving on. I think less of you these days. It’s a conscious effort. A premeditated decision. Pushing back the thoughts, the words, the images when they surface. Brutally crushing down the pain. Mercilessly stopping the tears. Forgetting you. And the fact that you exist. So a stray tear run down unchecked.

You decided I needed to get acquainted with what is music. With what makes a song. Never did u ever realize…I cared not so much about the music as much for you. Seeing you so passionate, so animated. Your voice actually enthusiastic till I would start giggling with delight at such innocence. Your eyes twinkling like the million starts I would be gazing at and then when you would be annoyed that I wasn’t listening to you, that sparkle fading into a dull sober glint. Toned down. But still there.

You were always different. Special. Singular. And that drive…the palpable energy. The one that would sweep away with it into the world where everything was perfect. Perfect for you. And a hundred faceless beings clapping. Giving you a standing ovation. And my heart…bursting with pride. My face growing with that silly grin and my soundless voice…screaming, breathless, excited.

Stories about how you will conquer the world. You doing what you always wanted to do. Doing what maybe you were destined to do. Stories, dreams, thoughts, fantasies all woven in Technicolor glory. So that the dreams look larger than life. You look larger than life. Stories, dreams, thoughts, fantasies…you.

I miss you sometimes. And your stories. And your passion. Your crazy techniques of wooing a gurl. And philosophies to make people feel nice. And that selfishness which is in every cell of your body. Your f!@#%^& self centered nature. Childlike simplicity. Adult pains. A bundle of paradoxes. Your whine. Your ecstasy.

I will move on. Will just take a little more time. And look back and smile that you happened. And praying…that never do u happen again. Ever.