Break-Up Chronicles

Seldom are break-ups equal. There will always be that person, who will say “never say never”; hold onto the call; pick up the phone to call and then disconnect, feeling like an encumbrance. Their stories are identical; the conversations that they have, sound similar. They all have the same journey.

Denial

...“We broke-up! He blocked me on Facebook.”

“Take deep breaths. Now tell me what happened.”

... “Distance found space between us. That is all there is to it. It was all fine. Silence took over, while we were busy listening to life’s instructions.”

“Cry only to let the pain out; not to mourn a loss”

... “I am sure he will call back (pause for assurance and estimate a timeframe - the math, of the strength of his affection for you) in a few days. It will all be sorted out.”

“He should!”

... “Of course he will. All those cheesy songs he sang for me, even simplified and reduced to the lowest common denominator, will amount to a lot of love. He will call.”

Dejection

...“I am struggling to grapple with the magnitude of what has happened. He left a message saying that he is busy; that he will explain; that I should proceed with my life.”

“Okay; and?”

... “Proceed where? All my plans included him. I did not fall in love with a back-up plan in place; that, if it doesn’t work out with him, I will move to person B. I made choices to accommodate his schedule. ”

“You will conquer this. You will come out on top.”

... “I know. Things are a little turbulent vis-à-vis career, but eventually, I know it will work out. However, I planned a life with him and he couldn’t even pick up the phone and call. He left a message, an ambivalent one at that.”

Desperation

... “I still miss him. I wake up every day expecting a call from him, asking me to come on Skype.”

“You should think about moving on.”

...“Moving on is a bitch!”

“He doesn’t deserve this, not after the way he left you. He doesn’t deserve your yearning, your time, your patient waiting.”

...“Tell me then; which part of my body should I sever so that I stop missing him?”

Damage

...“My words are all garbled; like my vocabulary quietly seeped out, mixed with the tears. I cannot find appropriate words. I am losing connection with reality.”

“I am sure it is not like that. You are just being paranoid.”

... “I have lost all empathy. I don’t feel anything for the characters, when I read. I do it clinically. I have lost my capacity for love. I wouldn’t cry upon Dobby’s death, if I were to read the book now.”

Deliverance

That elusive morning comes, when you do not miss him that much; when the desire to hear his voice doesn’t manifest as a throbbing pain; when you can get out of bed and get dressed, without looking once at the phone; when you make plans, because, you stop yearning for spending the day, Skyping with him; when you check out the Facebook profile of the guy, your friends have been talking about; when breathing is normal and not short gasps of forced activity; when you can think about the beach, without thinking about him.

He remains though, like the dent in your car, reminiscent of a night, spent driving, looking for that obscure dhaba; like that blotchy spot on the knee, from when you fell down while racing; in all the songs you sang for each other; in the spot on your screen, where you kissed him, when he fell asleep on Skype; he remains.