Unlove

 

Unmatch  Unlove

 It’s 2:27 am and, here we are again, my sad broken ass and you, the little voice in the back of my brain which keeps me up better than caffeine. Today, no social media post or a memory from my gallery but an old dusty paperback did the trick and woke up the voice. The book smelt like a warm dusty corner in a library where I used to sit back in the school days, safe amongst the fictional heroes, falling in love with each of them, each of the paper heroes, the picture-perfect characters not realizing in real life, there are no heroes, people are not made of paper but of flesh, feeling, experiences, good and bad and lots of other things. While I was busy falling in love with each of these paper heroes, no one taught me how to unlove, how to fall out of love with every single thing good or bad you loved about them, the worst part is no one taught me how to fall out of love of people as well.

 A person who I used to hold close to my heart, once told me if your heart is broken more than once, 1 out of these 2 things will happen - you either never love again or you keep falling in love over and over, almost a never-ending loop. Well, most of us choose the latter because who doesn’t love a good tragedy, we all do. I am pretty sure at any given point of time one would rather pick “A Walk to Remember” over “The Notebook”. We keep circling in the same loop till we realize it’s a downward spiral and not a loop and that we’re eventually going to hit solid rock bottom.

 Coming back to the dusty half-read book, a Murakami which I left half unread because the person who I borrowed it from kept our journey half-read, so it seemed like a fitting faith for the book. The voice in my head though wanted me to claw out each memory, all the good ones for now, and run them in little reels in my head, multiple windows playing the pink-tinted memories. I picked up the book unconsciously and ruffled through the pages mindlessly, words blurry as my mind traveled back to the day I got the book - a reel with scrumptious French toasts and steaming coffee with slow music filled my brain. I could feel the tears prickling in my eyes but that was not because of the beauty of the moment that was because another reel played at the same time, right before the French toasts, the cold moment painted in dark blue, where I was cold, as the person’s painful words lashed at me, breaking me one tiny bit at a time, making me weak, making me- stop! I dropped the book and the memories but no my brain had already flipped to the B-side of the tape, started playing it with new clarity. The first argument, the painful betrayal followed by the teary-eyed apology, all the accusations which made me question my sanity, all public reprimands, the false promises of fidelity, and the final heartbreak. That moment, as all the wrongs screamed at my face through the memories, the pink veil disappeared and the broken pieces of once a beautiful bond lied behind it with all the memories shattered across the dark cold floor, however beautiful it looked whenever I switched on the pink reel, the reality was that it hurt, it hurt me even when it wasn’t shattered in a billion pieces. Maybe that is the moment I fell out of love, out of the loop or the downward spiral, maybe that’s when I finally unloved the person and all the paper heroes.    

Anxitea: Now Brewing

It’s 3:00 am again and, I was meant to sleep about 1.25 hours ago but, instead, I’m lying almost lifelessly on my bed as I faintly notice the tears rolling down my cheeks. I don’t even know how it started, where did this pot of darkness start brewing tonight. Maybe, it was that date I agreed to or the presentation I’m not prepared for or maybe it is the decision of leaving the job or…I didn’t know anymore. The pot of darkness brewing in my head just like tea which slowly turns the water to dark brown as it brews, similarly, anxiety starts with that gentle tinge of grey in your head and slowly brews darker gripping you; overpowering you till it achieves Vantablack intensity and every inch and every part of you is soaked in fear and restlessness till it reaches its saturation then the numbness creeps in chilling your blood which runs in your veins rendering you almost lifelessly numb.

 As yet another panic attack makes it course through me, my body is still as the storm wrecks me and hurts me exploding every inch of my brain with shards of all the pain and memories shoved in the black box. I feel like screaming throwing away this god-awful entrapment that my body has become and freeing my soul at last. But all I do is ball up like a numb ragdoll and feel the tears slowly soak my pillow till it finally stops. It is surprisingly still inside my head, finally.  The fog of fatigue overpowering my senses, making me lose myself into a slumber but this is the worst part I think. As I dance tantalizing on the edge of sleep, the Pandora’s box fills my head with painful stills from the past; the face of a childhood friend who I don’t talk to, the smile of a person who broke my heart into pieces, the disappointment in my father’s eyes as her daughter failed yet again, pain on the face of a friend who I shut off yet again and many more memories each uniquely painful. I’m wide awake again my breath trembling yet again as memories, the pain again starts brewing another storm in my mind, “No not again, please! Please!” I beg to no avail as my eyes well up again, I can’t go through this again, but it hits again, the white pain shooting through me. It is like a haunting song on loop, you can’t just stop and you spiral down that loop. As I keep getting thrown in the storm as a rag doll, I vaguely notice the sun lighting up the sky, the deep orange hues melting away the dark sky. It is finally calm now inside my head, everything is back to normal, the Pandora’s box locked and stowed away with probably stronger reinforcements. The injuries left by the storm, the cuts and nicks already recovering and the mess being finally cleaned up and thrown in the recycle bin of my brain. I dance back to the cliff of sleep and as I’m about to dive into the ocean of deep slumber my alarm rings jolting the fog away and it is 9:00 am again. 

5:00 am – Heartbreak and Cheesecake

 

  There is something about that 12 am notification on my screen that evaporates my sleep almost instantly. All of a sudden, my brain wants to open Pandora’s box which is not even meant to be touched.  I open my escape route instead, devouring the pain that is making a slight knot in my throat. Before I know it, I am scrolling through the treasured memories in my phone gallery which are all hazy now and mean nothing but frames of fleeting moments frozen into pixels. It is not too long before I stumble upon that one picture shoved away in the archives of discarded memories.

  That picture perfectly captured the warmth of the moment. I was sitting on a bench outside a café, dim lights adorning the cafe behind me, while my eyes were lit with joy and love as I dotingly smiled at the person behind the camera. My fingers froze, the knot in my throat painfully lodged and my eyes filled up as the tears traced their way across my face, as the Pandora’s box is open and all the memories flung around in a frenzy. As my eyes shut, the usual darkness was replaced by snippets of moments where everything felt perfect. It is funny how we can accurately remember some moments hidden deep in the crevices of our mind perfectly; right from the smell of freshly made cheesecake which laced the moment as I smiled at the person sitting across me, feeling the warmth of his hand as it held mine somehow making it feel better. I lean towards him reaching out to caress his face but a notification on the device in my hands jolts me coldly back to the tiny empty apartment.

  It’s 1 am and it seems like apart from Zomato and Swiggy no one cares about my existence. I get up from the bed and walk over to the small window in the kitchen and stare into the glittery skyline of the City of Dreams – Mumbai. As the gentle breeze blows across my face feeling extra cool due to the trails the tears left behind, my mind travels back in time to the same café but the feeling of warmth is not there anymore instead, there is tension, the smell of cheesecake just a sour reminder of the once sweet memory ripped into pieces as I stared at the very same person as his hand felt cold and unwanted in my grip, the cold silence and silver noise of cutlery cutting through the happy moments we shared, which were now divided and to be pulled away onto different sides. A limp hug and a meek, “Nothing will change.” sealed the moment as we parted, the rich smell of the car seats and the driver’s meek attempts to keep me sane through the car ride still fresh in my mind.

  I opened my eyes, the skyline fuzzy now as my vision was blurred due to the waterworks. That moment was 5 months ago, I haven’t heard his voice, felt his touch, or even seen him for that matter, of course, COVID-19 was one of the reasons but another one was this chapter of my life which I held onto was over. I had a flight the next day morning the final page would conclude then.  As the realization struck, I gave in to the pain of everything leaving the city and the person I fell in love with and all other memories of love, pain, happiness, joy, laughter mixed into a heady cocktail cutting through me. Mumbai deserves probably another letter altogether but here we are despairing about heartbreaks.

 As the memories of the city slowed and the fog cleared in my head, I leaned against the window.  Looking at the small apartment I called home for 10 months now, with innumerable memories. I  stared back into now a dull reddish-orange skyscape of the city that held all my precious memories. As I welcomed the heartbreak with a smile and new set of tears, I took out the cheesecake from the fridge and heard my alarm for 5:00 am strike. I guess at the end of the day, it is about the cheesecake and the heartbreak.

3:26 am – Crazy, Stupid, Love….?

There is something about 2 am and sleeplessness, they both go well just like rum and coke, which I am on the third shot of by the way. It is 3:26 am now and all I can think about is how my mind is going in spirals, of course, the downward one. I don’t know what is with us, our generation that we zoom out on the lens of life through the day and zoom in on every possible mistake we made in our existence during the midnight hour and ponder over it.

There is a timeline to this overthinking frenzy, at 12:00 I’m in my bed and scrolling one last time through my Instagram, waiting for a good night text from my latest muse and I’m on the brink of sleep as my phone screen blinks to life with a notification. Next thing you know I’m no longer lying on the bed but discussing perks of dating with a random stranger who I don’t care about.

The clock strikes 1 before I know it, the discussion gets interesting and before I know it, I’m baring my heart almost open to a stranger, forgetting for a fleeting moment about the unrequited love which made me download that stupid app in the first place. Now it's too late, 1:45 am I have already started brewing the tea while I mindlessly continue the conversation, the pain making me numb and disregardful of the conversation, my mind rewinding the conversation with my muse and my fingers toggling between apps to check for new messages. No, not that lucky tonight.

Before I know it, the tea has been thrown in the sink, the pain commanding me now and to shut down the pain I already have made myself the classic rum and coke. As I feel the delicate burn of the alcohol piercing through my throat, the memories come back of the days when I was truly happy the fleeting memory of being in the arms of the person, who I thought loved and wanted me. My fingers are dying to type out “I love you; I need you. Please hold me, please save me from the pain,” but a meek “Hi,” is all I can manage. Time slows down as I sip on the remainder of my drink, minutes painfully ticking away, each tick on the clock making it harder for sanity to keep its grip and easier for me to let go to the pain and alcohol. Something about this combination makes me surprisingly confident and stupid, “ I love you,” the combination makes me type, the almost instant notification on my screen makes me jump with joy but it is replaced by that pokey feeling inside the chest again as the message opens to, “I’m sorry but I love someone else.” Classic. The last sip of the rum and coke burns a new pain through my chest.

Half drooping, half crying, I switch on my laptop after ages to pour out the pain, and before you know it’s 3:26 am again, a new cycle of pain and heartbreak again. A new cycle indeed as this pain gave me the strength to furiously write, write till my fingers hurt again all the pain I feel inside now coming out on the screen as words which I can’t read through my tear-filled eyes and soon the pain subsides, the weight of sorrow and loss gulps me again makes my fingers freeze on the keyboard, hit delete to all my feelings and wake up smiling at 8 again only to be heartbroken by 3:26 am again.

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by yours
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