Today someone asked me "Do you think there is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone?" I thought about it and said "No. I don't even know what love is." So he explained to me the difference "Loving someone means that you have feelings for them. Being in love with someone means that you feel loved."
So I thought about it. And I said to myself 'I think loved him because I felt a spectrum of emotions for him that I hadn't before for anyone before.' Emotions. What are emotions? Do they mean anything? Anything at all? Do they even exist? I mean they existed for me. But did they exist for him? Did he love me? So I asked again. What the fuck are these emotions? What are these things that make your skin tingle? What are these fucking feelings that make you want to cry for someone, that make you so addictive to another human being that you lose the ability to imagine the very basic thing without them that life has to offer. Survival. Existence. Ability to breathe and go on. Like life goes on. Feelings. Yes, they are called feelings, emotions, a manifestation of something... whatever the fuck you may call these 'things', these untangible artifacts that are capable of destroying lives. Yet a life cannot simply be without them.
Yes, I loved him. I cared about him. I wanted him. I needed him. He was sunshine. He was colours of rainbow. He was drops of rain. He was snow on the mountains. He was clouds in the sky. He was stars in my universe. He was life. He was love itself. Yes, I loved him. He was everything. Everything that was. And everything that wasn't.
So what was it that he wasn't, that he couldn't be. He wasn't honest. That is all. I was so sure he loved me back. I was loved. I knew I was loved. It wasn't just a belief. It was the 'knowing' of something that existed in my heart. That existed only in my heart. So I started thinking, if he wasn't honest then what was he really? I mean you had to be something in order to be not something else. He was a liar. He was unfaithful. He was disrespectful. He was dishonest. He was lecherous. He was fickle. He was irresponsible of his actions. His actions defied his spoken words. So I left him, when I needed him the most. I left him to prove it to him, that life did infact exist without life itself... without him. That I could exist without him. So did I?
Now that brings me to the next part of the question 'Did I feel loved?' I felt an arrey of sentiments reciprocated towards me from him. What encompassed all of them was the three pivital emotions. I felt happy. I felt safe. I felt complete. But were these all a result of expression of love from him? Or did I mistake myself love with lust? There was need. There was passion. And there was explosion. But were they the different manifestations of love? What was it really that I so rightfully deserved and hence received from him?
He gave me love but there was no heartbeat underneath it. He gave me a sublime feeling of security but there was no shelter encompassing it. He made me happy beyond measure but its foundation stood on crumbling pillers of fidelity. And why this is true? He once held me in his arms and in my psychiatrist's words threw a 'philosophical bullshit' at me "Sometimes in order to keep something in your life, it is better not to acquire it." Why is it that a man's quest for lust never dies? And why is it that to attain that very thing, he falls to the level of inhumanity where mere fornication is the only life's pleasure.
Pleasure. That wasn't all of it for him. I do feel and think to myself that he did have 'feelings'. He was capable of caring for me. He was capable of feeling remorse. I remember the very last time he held me in his arms when I had cried with fear of losing him. He did shed a tear or two. He did hold me the way someone holds something for the very last time. He did worry about me when he couldn't see me. Yes, I do know my love, that you did feel the countless shades of love and care and that was all for me. That perhaps there was a heart inside you that had some space for me. That perhaps, there still is something inside you, a part that belongs to me. But at the end it all came crashing down. Our journey together ended. Because of what you did. At the end it was your actions that spoke louder than your fickle words. At the end it was all about your lies. At the end it was all about what you did and what you did not do.
My psychiatrist called it "A self-fullfilled- prophecy" when I told him about my fear of loosing you one day just like that and that infact subconsciously waiting for it to come, the day when I'd face the parting, when I'd choose to walk away from you.
Yes, I fullfilled my prophecy. Yes, I saw it coming and steered it in the direction I wanted it to go. To the end. But only the end that has been written here. The other world awaits us my love and once we are done here, I shall walk unto the portals of fire, hand in hand with you. Because I love you and I always will.
Happy Valentines day my love.
Asima - 13th Feb - 14th Feb 2010
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