It’s been long since I felt alive last. So much so, that I’d forgotten that life deserved to be felt. I still think about him and wonder if he speculates about the thoughts that cross my mind. I remember his touch on my bare skin and the words he fed my naked soul. I recall the millions of stars that witnessed his promises to me and ask myself if they now snicker at my naivety. I bet they knew that his words weren’t ever real, but I know mine were. Is this why his memories haunt me and stop me from going any further?
I’d been fighting this raging battle for so long that somewhere on the battle field, I raised my guards high enough to block everyone out. After long nights that turned into longer months, something changed recently. I met a stranger, a rather beautiful one. Maybe it was his smile or the way his eyes lit up every time I looked at him, I can’t really pin it down. But things turned out so wonderfully right for two strangers that particular night. I could perhaps never conjure up the right words to describe the million little thoughts that whirled through my head when he asked me for a dance. Was it the drunkenness of my mind or the simplicity of comfort in the arms of a stranger? It’s an answer I’m scared to find out.
They say you need to take chances to let good things happen to you, but why do I feel like it’s all an elaborate scam? I find myself pushing happiness away every instance I get whereas, woe, on the other hand, feels comfortable. There’s warmth in knowing that things have to go wrong, so when they do, it wasn’t unforeseeable. Maybe it’s sad to find solace in hurt, but isn’t it better than watching yourself slowly disintegrate person after person? As I sit here on the balcony, looking at the people down below, I wonder if they feel the same kind of pain that I do. I wonder if their kisses drip of saturated despair the way mine do. Maybe all of us feel this way and none of us talk about it. Perhaps it’s the fear of acknowledgement that stops us. After all, acknowledging pain would then demand remedies that we aren’t equipped to create.
But then what is it that keeps us going? Hope? Obligations? Friends? Family? Career? Aren’t all these relationships an expansion of social constructs that are inherently, more often than not, extremely toxic? Of all these constructs that we get presented with, love intrigues me the most. The very thought of love warms us up like the feeling of hot chocolate. But how many of us actually end up finding our human versions of a hot-cup-of-cocoa-on-a-damp-rainy-day? I thought I found mine in several people over the past few years, but as it turned out, I’d clearly gotten my drinks mixed up there. And thus, after several tastings, my pursuit of finding just the right amount of sugary and yet, spicy, hot cocoa continues.
Is it just me or do you also feel like the pursuit gets futile after a few attempts? Sure, he might make you laugh on the 1st date and go down on you that one night, but is he really gonna stick around for a 2nd date or a 6th? Isn’t this dating cycle, for however long it lasts, getting a little too old now? I’m intrigued by the amount of choices we get these days. You can literally pick who you want to be with, based on their height and dick size! But do these “features” guarantee lasting satisfaction or is it merely for a brief while after which you move on to the next person? I personally don’t think happiness lasts long. In fact, if you want to place your bets on something, place them on misery and general fuck-ups. That would make you a lot more money than redundant capitalist jobs ever could!
Having said that though, I do think it is essential to find moments that make you smile, people who shower you with back hugs and dogs that make your life worth something. Because what are we even existing for if pain is the only constant reminder we have of being alive? Having been addicted to certain kind of abuse, I now realise how dull life seems outside of it. This desirable violence of love is, in essence, therapeutic until it gets muddled with toxicity of real life. I’ve thus figured to woe is easy but not to woe, that is the real test that we face. While they’re both good choices, comforting in their own twisted ways, I’d still ask you to pause, breathe and choose wisely.