Phoenix

June 6, 2017

To read part 1 of this series, click here 

 

The birds are chirping; happy, oblivious. I wish I could be one of them... have wings, fly away...to oblivion.

 

The sun rises higher, makes the day brighter. It hurts my puffy eyes, all that brightness. So I turn away from the window, move back inside my room. And it all comes crashing back... the words flung last night, the wounds inflicted over the years.

 

I sigh; I feel so old. As if I have lived a thousand years and more.

 

That’s when I think of him. Again. Always, in the darkest, loneliest moments; his thoughts, a balm to my soul.

 

‘If he could love me, then maybe I’m not that bad after all’.

 

I don’t sound too sure about that; not even in my own head. But it’s all I have. He is gone, but his memories would suffice. They would be my peace... for today.

 

Or maybe not.

 

‘He left you, when he said he couldn’t live without you! How can you believe his lies?’, an angry me questions.

 

‘He didn’t have a choice,’ I feebly reply.

 

‘There’s always a choice,’ a quiet, calm voice deep inside me answers.

 

I choose to ignore it, like I always do. I am not sure why... maybe because it sounds so sure of itself, like some punk or self-proclaimed guru. And it never shouts, as if it doesn’t need to prove anything. It just is.

 

I hate it!

 

I hate it because it always says the right things... at the wrong time! I need comfort now, not Osho! I need my lies, not its truths! I need... something! Anything!

 

But the voice remains silent. It doesn’t care about my rants. It has said what it needed to say. It’s up to me now, to decide.

 

And I decide to ignore it, like I always do. Because it’s easier this way. Love is meant to hurt. But it’s a beautiful pain.

 

So what if he left me? He wanted to stay so bad. 

 

So what if he got paranoid when I was out too late in the night? He was just so worried about me.

 

So what if he never acknowledged our relationship in public? He loved me deep inside.

 

So what if he couldn’t handle my strength, my anger, my sorrow, my intensity? He loved my softness, and that’s all I needed to be.

 

So what if he made me cry more than he made me laugh? He cried harder than me, my pain nothing compared to his... each time, every time.

 

So what if he got married? He still wanted me around... when his wife wasn’t.

 

Which is when I left.

 

‘See! YOU left, he didn’t!’, the me that still loved him triumphantly announced.

 

I hear another piece of me break. I don’t know whether it is my love, my strength, or my pride. I can no longer keep track of all the little pieces of me.

 

Yet I hold on to his memories. Because that’s all I have. I have nothing else. No other solutions. I wish I had. But I don’t.

 

Not right now, anyway.

 

But there is always a solution. Life had taught me that. The hard way.

 

So I breathe deeply... and let it all out. I tell myself that I have seen worse, and survived. I can survive this too. I WILL survive.

 

And just like that, somehow, I find a little strength. It’s not much. But it will do.

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