It rains, sometimes on the outside and many a time on the insides. A defeated cry lost amidst the loud lashing of the water on the panes and the angry growling of the clouds.
They say that a good sleep is probably the cure to anything, so I tried it out.
Most of the day I try to study/read or take a nap, the more that I consciously try to run away from his thoughts, the more I get pulled into them.
I feel now like I don’t know him, at all. There was a time when I could sense what he is thinking or how it is that he feels by just listening to him breathe, it was that sort of insight that I had.
Now he feels different, like a stranger.
One whom I can’t read.
Yesterday night I sat up for hours thinking all about the past two years and it felt unreal, like I was looking at things happening to someone else. That all this could definitely not happen to me.
And I’m not angry, not sad, I just feel nothing. Empty. Hollow.
He apologised yesterday via a text, I read it a hundred times but could feel nothing, still feel nothing. For all that it is worth I have no grudge against him, I don’t hate him nor do I dread ever meeting him.
The time that we spent together taught me a lot, both good and bad. I used to call him gyaan baba, because of his habit of advising me about how to go about in life, how to try be a better person, to be less resentful and angry. When we stopped talking to each other, it wasn’t the romantic conversations that I missed, I terribly craved for these bits of advice.
They say that our experiences make us who we are, all of us are maybe a bit broken, bruised, battered, lost, lorn.