*Dedicated to someone who waits for the next chapter, because this time I'm sure he does.
Sometimes some feelings are too intense to be moulded into words. Words that make sense, words that rhyme, or even words that resemble words. It’s tough. Many a times, writing about it is the only way to achieve some solace, to ease the burning feeling in the middle of your chest, to soothe your ragged soul. But what do you do when the words just won’t form; when backspace is the most frequently tapped key and when the white sheet of paper mocks your frazzled ego. But still writing about it does seem like the correct answer.
Because if you don’t write, what do you do? Do you talk to him? Do you text him? Do you leave him umpteen messages about your heartache? Seeing these words starkly etched on the screen makes the above alternatives sound pathologically insane and maybe even borderline psychotic. But then, what do you do?
Sometimes you don’t have anyone to talk to. Not your best friend, not your mother. You find yourself staring off into the distance or submerging yourself in mundane chores, trying not to think about what actually is the uppermost thought in your mind. The complaints, the sadness, the loneliness suddenly merge into cogent sentences, wishing you’d have the guts to spill them in front of him, but something still continues to stop you.
Is it the fear of rejection? Or could it be that you have completely misconstrued what you have shared with him? Is it the anxiety borne out of the thought that he is purposely ignoring you, blithely moving on in his life without even being remotely aware of what you consider to be your very existential angst?
The thoughts cluster in your mind, checking and double checking your every move. Should you be brave and just give it to him straight? Should you be a little more patient because there very well could be a reasonable explanation behind his behaviour? Is it you that is the cause of this separation? Did you do something so wrong that he thought it best to cut himself off from you without so much as a second glance, a warning shout?
But in spite of all the pain, the confusion, and the crippling lack of confidence, the most painful threat lies low just beyond the horizon. It is hope. Hope that he could easily have been in some plausible situation that wouldn’t permit him access to you. Hope that he himself has been trying to talk to you but, for some reason, is unable to. Hope that he will one day ride back into your life on that same white steed that you always dreamed of. Hope that this time he just wouldn’t have the heart to leave.
It is this very hope that bolsters your weakening spirit when it would be better for you to have it broken down. It is this very hope that embalms your aching heart when it would be better for you to have it shattered into pieces. It is this very hope that perpetuates the pain and the longing when it would be better for you to cut off all ties and start healing.
It is this very hope that whispers into your soul every night that all this is for a reason. A reason that you aren’t yet aware of but one that will make all this pain seem worth your while. It is this very hope that kisses your anger away and makes you remember what makes you hold on to him. It is this very hope that is the answer to your pain as well as the reason for it.
With this very hope I write today, hoping that he'll see it. Hoping that my words will reach his heart; hoping that my words will pull him back to me.
And in this hopeful yet hopeless way, I do love you. Come back to me. Please.