..I Let Him Go

Tonight is no different. 
I twist and turn in bed like every other night. 
The events of the day run a recap through my subconscious mind. Nothing special.
I twist and turn as grief takes over.
One quiet sob. And another. And another.

Before I know it, my sister is awake, holding me tight, asking me what's wrong. She's 15. How is she supposed to understand the so-called problems of adulthood? What do I explain her? 
So she just holds me close while I cry the heck out of me. 

It's not the kind of crying that babies do. It's not the cry for milk or for a toy or for a video game, nor is it for a dress or a party. 

It's over a guy. A lost love. 
No, he wasn't my boyfriend and he never could be. There are more kinds of love that can blossom between a guy and a girl, than you think. This was one of those different kinds. Simply because we were different - together and individually.

I don't know why I cry over him but I couldn't stop thinking about the transition from good to bad. I think it has much to do with the fact that I was too good but my goodness wasn't appreciated. I am the one with the kind heart and more love to give than required. 
When I like someone so closely, I hope with all my heart that we last. But destiny usually has other plans. At the time when things began to fall apart or at least I thought they did, it was only reflexive to cling tighter.

Even though the lights are out, I can feel my eyes are blood shot. My cheeks burn. I've got so used to the taste of tears, the salt almost feels familiar.

As I begin to speak something to my sister, I end up weeping into her night suit. Oh, poor sister, she must think.

It was one of those days when I was feeling my chirpy self and I let my chirpiness get the better of me. The conversation went haywire. I felt a knife stab me in the chest, figuratively. That was the end of it.

It has been two months since that fateful day. What I am unable to accept is how could my actions that had been clear as crystal from the beginning, be interpreted in a completely different light, and used against me.

I tried to pull him out of his denial state and when I had succeeded in doing so, it was too late. Know why? Because the damage had been done. It seemed like a punishment for being over-sweet. Everything that I held dear had been washed away by his wave of denial. What took one year to build had been destroyed in one day. Intentionally or otherwise, is out of the question.

My sister finally gets up to fetch a bottle of water and hands it to me. I take a long sip and rest the bottle on my side table. I begin to speak after a pause; words come out effortlessly this time. Not harsh words, not abuses, not hatred. But words of bewilderment, words of love and words of regret. I babble for about ten minutes before I find myself feeling sorry for a friendship turned sour. So does my sister.

As much as I want to tell him what goes in my mind and heart, I want him to first realize. And then care. More than that, I want him to walk in my shoes, take a round and come back with the knowledge where the shoe bites.

Of course I was broken.

I blow my nose into the handkerchief she got me.

I needed some fixation. A harder blow this time.

But like they say, we seek comfort from the ones who hurt us. And I knew he was going to be the last person, if at all, to do so.

I have always learnt to walk away from things and people who hurt me. Hence, I decided to never turn back. I can’t accurately evaluate the righteousness of this decision, but I have to say, he hasn’t tried to prove it wrong. So I let him go.

My sister puts me to sleep as my tears dry up on my reddened cheeks.

Abhi na jao chhord kar, ke dil abhi bhara nahi…

…I hum to myself.