Love.
It perhaps is the purest word a man possibly will ever mutter in his entire
lifetime. It is something that would give one person the strength to hold on,
and another the strength to let go, helping him to get through the difficult
times not essentially with someone's assistance, but with someone's constant
support. Something divine. Almost holy.
I
think I experienced it. The last four days were like a delusionary dream. I
never thought it would actually happen to me, the strangely ordinary old me.
Nothing was making sense at all but it all seemed to fit right. As if I was
living in a trance and had no control of what was happening around me,
whatsoever. I was never more happy and carefree. All the stiffness, the tension,
the stress was starting to vanish every time I heard that four lettered word.
It started out, I remember, in a meeting, a proper networking meet and I was
there, with my bunch of friends. The first time I met him, it was a different
kind of an experience. The good kind of different. Our arguments on every diverse
topic seemed to mismatch unlike our interests, which oddly and peculiarly matched.
I never thought it would all make sense today. I never thought I would find my
friend, my competitor, my teacher, my supporter, my beloved man in one single
person. Not that I needed someone, I am quite self-sufficient in my own little
ways, confident and independent, but it was good to want someone nonetheless.
Someone for whom I wouldn't count the separation days for. Someone who would
listen to me blabbering about random stupid stuff without complaining.
I
was sitting in the roadside local cafe with Steven Curtis Greene last Tuesday
with the thoughts of denying everything altogether and sipping the most
favorite Latte.
He kept on observing me, his glare trying to dig everything I was about to say from beneath my eyes, my unspoken words and the little random expressions I was giving. The thing about this stare was that it was the deepest stare anyone had ever given me and yet it was not uncomfortable at all, rather assuring, something about it made me feel safe.
But I wasn’t here to
surrender to his words and wishes, but rather tell him that I was resistant to
any kind of love. I was afraid that I might let my parents down, they never
would want me to be someone's someone and they had prevented any such attempt
in the past. They were just too cautious where I was concerned, it wasn’t their
fault. And I was afraid of how things would turn out, with my expectations and
his hopes, and I didn't quite have the time to make any commitments. It took me
three long sips of the drink to finally come out of my reverie, and I finally
said, my words a calculated paraphrase of my thoughts, "I cannot".
And
two hours later, I was sitting in Steve's car, my head on his shoulder,
thoughts somewhere else, and hands just touching his arm, for I had finally
complied with my heart, instead of my mind,
with a "yes". My plain ancient heart defying the good
efficient brain, a work of art indeed. I got up, stretched my arms in the air
and got ready to get out of the car and into the Tube station to go back home,
when he finally stopped me with his hand on my arm, the firm hold of his hand
that made it difficult for me to even move. That moment, with those continuous
currents of hot blood flowing in my veins, with adrenaline engulfing my whole
system, and emotions filling up all of me, he took me by a surprise and hugged
me real hard and must've said 'I love you' about 50 times over making my whole
body attentive of his breaths and his words. I closed my eyes, just feeling the
rush of excitement and energy in every atom of my body and smelling the faint
metallic smell from his neck. I still hadn't said 'I love you' because I wanted
to say it at the right time, when I felt like I truly could give in all of me
to this intelligently spectacular innocent boy. Maybe.
And
now it has been four days since and I still recall getting almost lightened up
by his expressions, saying "You're mine. And I love you” and the way he
was looking at me like I was the only damn thing that will ever matter to him
and his eyes saying he meant it all. Yes, it was that special.
But
I understand that a passion that burns that ferociously isn't meant to last.
Four days is all that it took to us giving up on hopes, and giving in to our
own circumstances. Maybe things are so meant to be. Maybe first love teaches
you like nothing else.
How it is so pure and untainted and it afflicts the
innocent you and how you’ve never actually faced heartaches before it. How the
times would never be the same again, and how you’ve changed from the first time
you met your affinity.
He
would probably never know how he made me feel, but one thing for sure is, it
was a lifetime worth of love that I experienced in just the four days we were
together. It has made me stronger, and given me the strength to summon up my
courage to achieve bigger and better things for myself. And it has made me
believe in miracles and I would always choose to be trapped in those memories
of love and life and strength. And maybe we are just like the sky and the
earth, living together, existing together but still unable to truly meet each
other. And I wish to be with him again, but I can never be, I would never be
allowed to be.
We would just be like the syllables and the mouth that they come
out from, joined together for the shortest period of time but that moment of
impact, that moment of chaos finally defining each other's existence before
they both separate only to never meet again.
~Katherine
Melanie Embers
No comments:
Post a Comment