The Phases

 

All the words lost their meaning, they look dead, an arrangement of letters on a piece of paper, or mere sounds devoid of any sense. Longing is killing me. Sadness engulfed me today, a pure and strong grief that burst inside me and filled me with a tsunami of unleashed tears. I am afraid that I reached the end, the end of a story I was just enjoying its beginnings.

I don’t know if you have been reading what I wrote. My faint screams, my humiliating appeals and my pathetic my self-flagellation. Sometimes I hope you do, but most of the time I pray you don’t. Prayers? I think that my most sincere prayer is that you taste what I feel, this shattering love that is killing and reviving me every hour since I met you. Will you bear all this? The urge to meet, to talk, to send silly messages and stare at the mobile screen till I start typing. Oh my god, you type so slowly. I miss you.

I hated our WhatsApp messages today, too formal, too polite, too dead! How many “thank you” and “Inshala” can a 3-minutes chat include? What are we doing? Staying in touch, mmm, acting as friends? Were we ever friends, since when lovers turn to friends? There was something between us, something genuine, spontaneous and beautiful. I called it Love, you panicked, resisted and refused to admit that you were in love. My “love” and your “something” were just starting a happy dance in a magical realm, when you stopped, and asked your logical questions. My “love” wasn’t worried as your “something” and did not bother answering them. I remember myself staring at you naively while murmuring “I love you”. This sentence irritated you then, and your definition of love was too scientific to me. I was tempted to mock what you were saying, but your firmness stopped me.

 Am I wearing our memories together, abusing such lovely moments by recalling them again and again? Your tone when you told me this story, and how you laughed at that joke and what you said about that movie. I remember everything, and am not ready to let them fade away. Would my love have survived the boredom phase, when every grimace initiates a fight, when every errand seems like a mission impossible, and when our habits are seen as irritating. I think we would have survived it, my “love’ would have supported me, not sure about your “something”. Would the boredom phase come first, or would it follow the screaming phase, when we start shouting at each other for the silliest reasons. I don’t confront, I don’t scream, and I would have never allowed this crazy phase to visit us. But they say never say never. May be our baby love would have grown in a healthy, balanced and mature environment, that would have nurtured and prepared him for such phases. What about the silence phase, when all the stories had been told, all the jokes had been repeated and all the songs had been sung? Here I am living in the silence alone, surrendering to boredom alone, and heading to madness alone.

Am I fooling myself? I want to live each and every phase with you, not only the fluffy beginning, nut the boredom, the crazy and the silent days. I want to fight, blame and curse each other before we lose ourselves in endless hugs. I want everything, I want you to feel the same. May be your “something” simply was not enough.