It wasn't that I didn't anticipate this, but its one of those things which you are in the way of even when you see them coming from miles. I don't know whether its the caprice or the realization that sinks my heart, but I have now started to see this queue from where I stand, running upto you. And though there are just a few around, I feel affronted and dwarfed standing right in the end while you are busy smiling at others.
Not too long ago, I mistook it to be a galactic occurrence, for its not everyday that two wandering souls fit into each other with a clank loud enough for the heads to turn and marvel at the aura, the beauty and the sheer electricity. I was too dazzled to notice others. I was too elated to know what I know now; the world is full of people like me. And now I stand gobsmacked at a distance to despairingly watch my thunder stolen. I, for the want of my dignity, would put up a impervious, unrattled front for God knows how long. But, need I tell you that there's really no ground beneath my feet?
And after enough afternoons have been spent mulling, enough lumps of expendable ego have been bitten and chewed, the mortal finally tears out of your now roughed up, usually tranquil skin, all bruised and battered, thorns in flesh, screaming for explanations. Accusations and defenses follow, loud and teary ones at that. An umbrella of innocence is spread out to hide the diabolic simpers. And you can't really blame anyone for being clinically blase or even pretending to be so. Retribution is too sweet to be given up for anyone. And it won't be too long when you find yourself hanging to their lame 'just a friend' explanations with your teeth. You never really thought how you would handle their admission, did you? Only when you blurt it out do you realize that you started a duel with a gun pointed at yourself. And now you beg them not to let you pull the trigger!
And in those vulnerable moments of oscillating between being a victim and an offender of indifference, a teary 'I'm yours' is all you want to hear, all you want to end it with. I hope it does end that way. It often does. But, if it weren't for your wobbly legs after all this mush, you would have mutely admitted to yourself that there is now a confidante in your special someone's life who now pretty much fills that space which you left while you were away. You wandered too far, for a wee bit too long. Too long for them not to think you didn't care. This friend was the eager, empathizing ears they wanted to pour out their heart to, the praising, assuring mouth they needed to hear the words from and the warm revering eyes they needed to be looked at by, which you felt awkward becoming.
Maybe its awkward as you have been doing it for long, or maybe because you have never done it before as yours has been an aphonic chemistry, or maybe everything that there was to say, has been said one too many times and you would rather stay silent than make it sound like a mechanized recital; but the selfish little piece of flesh that beats in the chest is a lovelorn child longing for the lullaby you used to croon for it every night. Little does it understand that lullabys can't be sung everyday. And after a few silent nights it starts to sleep to the distant melodies finally knowing that there aren't any more lullabys to be sung and swayed to.
The world is a lonely place. The bigger it gets everyday, the lonelier it becomes. You would have known that as you wandered around. You should have known. So, don't you go too far. Don't you go too far to not make it home by night. You know how awfully dark it gets back there while you are away, don't you?
