The heartache wells up again, freshly in my chest. Every time someone mentions your name, every time a memory conjures up in my mind, every time someone asks me if I have ever been in love, my core coagulates to a lump of misery and despair. The day you severed all ties with me, once and for all, is so vividly branded onto my memory, as if it were just yesterday. The laughter of college kids that echoed to warm tears escaping my eyes, at sunset, still rings to my ears like some premonition. You were probably right. I was too stupid to be loved. I was too stupid to know at that time that people leave when taken for granted. It took me a lot of time to understand with a conviction that you were the only true love I had ever experienced. You. You. You. My life will never be the same without you. My being will never be the same without you. At times, the sorrow comes to me without warning and grasps my soul in the blink of an eye. I don't know if it makes sense to you, but all of my happy dreams consist of you. I feel at peace when I lay my head on your chest listening to the faint sound of your heartbeat ignoring the hustle-bustle of the streets outside bhanga kakar cha-er dokan. But only in dreams, I have you. When I wake up from slumber, the pain hits me again, sharp blows on my stomach, crackling my ribs, numbing my senses, paralyzing me as it travels to and fro my body. The retelling of stories from my past, as I painfully realize that I am no more capable of loving anybody anymore. This is the heaviest regret I would ever have in this lifetime- that I didn't love you enough, that I did stupid mistakes and let you go, and that I couldn't realize at that time what you were in my life. I don't know what penance would get me off the hurt. I cannot undo the things I have already done. I don't even know if I can ask you to come back, maybe you wouldn't even if I could. All I know is that with you my life would be like a dream. Perfect and beautiful. A dream I can swallow hundreds of sleeping pills for. A dream for which I could sleep forever. I love you. I swear I do with every ounce of flesh in me. A love I know I'll never feel again. I love you beyond the flimsy borders of time, space, and being. Just as every night, I struggle to cry tonight. And as usual, I can't. I stare out of the window. Suddenly the skies pour down in torrents. It's easier now. My tears are no more mine, my hurt no more inside. The rain is my catharsis.
Human beings no matter where they go in the world, will always seek home: in places, in people, in things, and in food. Perhaps because at the end of the day one wants to be vulnerable and yet are loved. We search for a setting where not the flesh, not the bones, but the very soul beneath it is adored and cradled like a newborn, squealing, and needy for love. As long as I lived with my family, I never realized the worth of home, unless one day, I was out in the wide world, alone, apprehensive, and being indoctrinated by societal norms every single day. The only pockets of peace that I was left with was a 'chosen family': a farrago of strangers that I met, and before I could decide to love or hate them, I was entangled with them like wollen strands in the mesh of a new warm cardigan. I have lived with a plethora of strangers, loved them, held them close in my most vulnerable moments, and then cried bitterly when we parted. After a time, both parties agreed on their fate and mo
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