I have always wanted to be a part of something. I wanted to be a part of a family, a group of cousins and siblings. I wanted to be a part of a group of friends. I wanted to be a part of a community. I have always wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself. By default, I fit into all of these categories and none if I take a deeper glance at the truth.
A sense of loneliness accompanies me everywhere I go. It is a sense that comes to life by not being understood, not just for a while, but for every second you have been alive. It is a heavy thing to carry with you everywhere, this loneliness.
I have tried to empty the bag of thoughts I carry in mind. I have tried to scream the words out and I have tried to pull them out forcefully. But, they, like a faithful lover, do not abandon me. They stand next to me in my deepest moments of despair and they hold my hands just as well at the zenith of my happiness. So, I suppose, I lie when I say I wish to be a part of something bigger than myself. I realize, the loneliness has become bigger than me and I have become a part of it.
There is beauty in this world that is more than what the eyes can perceive. This beauty is as natural as nature, as apparent as instinct, and rare, much like common sense. This beauty is of and beyond this world. To understand it, you have to let go any preconceived notions you have and wipe your memory clean. Forget what you know of beauty, to understand and feel that, which cannot be seen.
I should have talked to you. Your soft smiles were an indication enough, I should have stopped you, but you were always so immersed in your ways. Shy glances and sweet sighs. So many confessions twirled on your tongue, like sweet hard candy, melting before I could ever hear their crunch. Every once in while you would smile, let the secrets reflect in your eyes. And, I would forget. Forget your pensive stares. To remember what was in front of me. A mirage, that was all you. You and a semblance of me. A shadow that bore our names. Us. Together. In a different lifetime. In an alternate reality. But this, I cannot forget; we are here, in the now, in this place. In this actuality, you don’t talk and I don’t hear. We don’t speak and you are not near. I live with regret, for the things I didn’t do, the words I didn’t let escape in submission to my fears. Perhaps, it is too late. Time is too far gone to say, I should have stopped you. I should have talked to you.
I have been afraid to write of love lately. It takes away too much out of me.
Love is the essence of living. And there are days, which these days are most days when I feel it hurts too much to speak of love with careless abandon. I did so once. Perhaps even dared to do it twice. Once all was said done, I was left with a mere shell of my words.