X: Did you run away?

Y: I thought I should try it out once.

X: Why?

Y: Maybe, I want to live.

X: Live for what?

Y: For myself.

X: What about your family? Friends?

Y: They are important to me.

X: What about it?

Y: They are important to me but I am more, to myself.

X: You don’t love them enough?

Y: I think I do. 

X: You think? You don’t know?

Y: I do.

X: I don’t think you do.

Y: You don’t know me enough to know that.

X: I know you. You were scared and you tried to escape.

Y: That’s your assumption. You can never know anybody enough.

X: Maybe. I would partly agree to it. But that doesn’t prove the point.

Y: The point is, there is never really a point. Nothing is right and nothing is wrong. Everything is based on assumptions and emotions are too abstract to be understood, fully. You can never understand anyone completely and you shouldn’t try to. 

X: Why?

Y: If you knew everyone too well, life would be boring. There comes a saturation point, when we start predicting people and their actions and you get to know most of what everyone would do, before they even do it. Thats not very exciting.

X: You are weird.

Y: You shouldn’t try to understand me.

X: You are contradicting yourself. 

Y: How?

X: You are assuming life would be boring if you knew people too well, which is a fact but according to you nothing is right or wrong, yet you still feel you are right about your thoughts.

Y: I could be wrong, I could be right. Human thoughts can be complicated. I am not trying to prove myself here. This is my assumption and it can contradict yours and your opinions doesn’t matter much to me and it shouldn’t bother you too as well.

X: I wish I understood you more.

Y: You can try. But its going to be tough.

X: It’s gonna be exciting.

The Irony in my life. The last book I gifted my ex boyfriend before I left him was called Never Let Me Go.

Part 1.

We met through friends. I had met him before but I pretended not recognizing him. He did not recognize me but he did know a little about me. Some random things like how I talk in monosyllables. It was one of the usual gatherings at strangers. They were smoking up. I was watching them roll. He did not know how to use the paper. I was clueless. I was with strangers for the only reason that they were about to offer me some food. So much for the love of food, you know. And I played my part well. Sitting at one corner pretending to listen to people and not saying a single word. He was probably the nicest person in the room, I assumed, because he offered me the joint, which I denied and then he said hi. I told him we had before. He wasn’t sure about that. I described how his room was, how his mother looked and how he looked four years back. He was convinced that we had met before but he was still unsure. I was glad my memory wasn’t a failure.

He dropped us home. He offered me a hug and I gave him a handshake. Formality. Clean shit. I don’t like hugs. He did not like awkward formality. He didn’t take the handshake. I remembered him for his awkward denial. He remembered me for my awkward handshake. End of the conversation. We never exchanged numbers.

Part 2.

We met again at different places by mere coincidences. Sometimes while I would be checking out clothing stores and commenting over bad garment detailing. Most of the times he would be trying to finish unfinished books sitting in the bookstore. He would join us most of the times and he seemed excited learning about fabrics. I found out knowledge made him happy. It wasn’t the clothes. I fed him the fashion knowledge. He understood my point. It wasn’t the clothes and he wasn’t against homosexuals. Something about that made me happy. I finally started talking. He fed me literary knowledge. He was an English student who sincerely loved Helena Bonham Carter and our conversations never ended. We exchanged numbers. He later thanked me. I wasn’t sure why but I thanked him too. He was an honest man.

Part 3.

We met with friends. We ate at strangers’ dinner invitations. We walked at the park with dogs. We had dog conversations. We slept on park benches. We made fun of people on the streets. I stole his father’s shirt. We shared secrets. We made fun of each other. We made fun of the dogs. I made fun of his songwriting. We shared headphones. We sneaked in strangers’ houses just to watch movies. Everything was about movies. Everything was about books. Everything was music. We discussed songs. He understood the kinds I listened to. I never understood the kinds he liked. I sang once on repeated request. He denied singing. He was a paid vocalist but I have never heard him sing. He never sang even after repeated requests.

We were friends who never talked over phone. We were good friends. We never posed together for a photograph.

Part 4.

It’s been more a year now. He disappeared completely after I left him. Left no trace. My stalking skills never really worked. I eventually stopped thinking about it after I realized I am better off alone with no responsibilities to tie myself with. There is an utter peace in letting people go at the right time for the right reasons before you start hating them for the wrong reasons. Memories seem more precious when they are only the happier ones. It was a nice memory and it was lovely meeting him.

Part 5.

I am grateful to him for introducing me to this song.

(An article about how hard I try at times to describe a happy loner.)

Nobody in this world really wants to be alone. It’s just that someday someone realizes that it’s better to be alone. It’s optional, like all other things. How people would opt for oranges instead of bananas and hardcover copies instead of paperbacks. Whatever that fits in the bag that you carry. You know, what I mean.

Besides, I am just some somebody who likes to live in my head, where I do everything that I want to. Not that I would do everything in reality but I guess it’s just easier, you know, living-in-the-head thing. It sorts out things on its own and presents to me the optional options. So I had two choices. Choose people or being alone. Choosing someone sounds simpler but trust me, its not. As a matter of fact, it gets worse when you know someone too well. It’s like you got nothing else left in this world to do; too many stories, presumptions, garbage and no space for the thoughts to wander around your mind. Besides, you need to give people time, energy and other terms of physics and also take it back from them if you can or want, which obviously depends on you. I need to probably sit in a café over tea and have a chat with somebody who has exactly the opposite observations. The ones who get excited when they read ‘sharing is caring’. You know, what I mean.

Besides besides, people who have so many misconceptions about me just because I am quiet, shy or a bit strange as they call me, in my head I am everything you don’t know about. You know, what I mean.

A friend of mine told me something a long long time ago. “Time heals”

Probably it was the most normal thing anybody could say to anyone.  Years later, I still realize it, it’s probably the simplest trick that dictates life.

I just let my unconscious mind do the talking while time passes by.

While the time passes by I watch people. I watch them fight and love. I watch them grow with others. I watch them die within themselves. We all learn from what we see while the mind manipulates its own answers to what we all face.

Time passes by and everything will change. The way we look at things and the way we deal with situations. Things that looked tougher will look a lot easier later. Years would have passed by then and we would have grown out of ourselves.

We are what we create ourselves to be. We are what we live, how we live and how we want to. Time created it. Time will take it away as it passes by. That is the assurance it gives.

Memories will live in our head as it always has. Perspective will change. The time will come when it  we can forget them, if we wanted to and only a few moments will last forever.

Then we can die in peace.

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