How hard can loving a person be?

I feel like being a romantic chic at times. I just want to stare in someone’s eyes and say all my stories without even letting my lips move. But then, with time I will lose vision. Maybe water is not as clear and transparent as I think it is. Like there is a time when your eyes become watery because of a reason back in your mind. The beauty is not the way it gets soaked in. It is the way it disappeared.

How hard can loving a person be? By loving I mean you’re attached, you’re loyal, you’re committed, you’re honest, you’re faithful, you’re dependable and you’re caring. I never meant just affection or maybe infatuation. I mean giving your life, your body, your soul, each and every tiny piece that belongs to you. It is a beautiful, wonderful, moment of magnificent insanity. You’re jealous, you’re clingy, you’re annoying, you’re overprotective, you’re emotional and you’re crazy.

You might be pushed away but you will go right back. At times you might want to run away from the situation but then you don’t find anything without that one in your life. Your love might lie to you but you’ll still trust its power. You might get pissed off, but you’ll never stay mad at love. You’ll keep being the victim, victim of ego, pride and superiority, but you’ll forgive it over and over. Love might try to change its color to hatred, but you’ll start loving all over again. And it all starts from square one. Miserable and magical at the same moment.

But when re-starting happens enough times that you don’t have the courage to start it all. Or maybe when love starts taking you for granted, you’re done with it. It’s horrible. It’s pathetic. It’s toxic. Isn’t it?

hkIt makes you so vulnerable. It gets you in a condition where your throat gets dry and you can’t breathe anymore. You can’t scream. You need a blanket to cover your face when you cry. You need support but you don’t want to narrate the entire story. You feel depressed. It leaves you wide awake at 3 in the morning wishing you never had any feelings.

Everything in the range of your vision seems like a connection to your misery.  A song played at a random coffee shop becomes the reason of your quick mood swap because it has the most relatable lyrics to your story. The moment when you start singing it, your nose becomes cold, numb, heavy and red as if it is going to explode. The redness increases its domain towards your cheeks and reaches your eyes gradually. It is all collapses flowing down your eyes.

It opens your chest. It rips you apart and disturbs your mind. It opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You can fuck your whole life up by trusting love, blindly. You give a million chances to yourself to be cold as ice but the warmth of your heart melts it every time.

You’ll stay inside your bubble of anxiety and depression. You’d let anyone in but you don’t want your sadness to reach for that soul and eat it alive. You’ll lay here like a ball, small enough to miss everyone’s sight. Maybe you deserve some peace after all the shit you’ve been through.

But that very moment you’ll cross lines with the same person, you wish you never met. But, like a moth you keep running to your own coffin. Your eyes will meet even after beautifully ignoring them. You will stare them to the inner core and wonder if they’ll do the same. It will melt you and mould you as per their terms, but then there would be spaces left to cover.

Maybe that is when you realize, it is all over and that hope which was crushing you every moment, dies. The best part is you will never cross that graveyard where you buried the connection you had with the very same person. Their presence is not awkward anymore. Their talks don’t end up with goose-bumps. It will be all fine but, how hard can loving again be?gd

So the idea of me being Nicholas Sparks’s inspiration for a new novel or Karan Johar’s next ‘Simran’ is definitely not going to fit in my biography. Love is the child of curiosity and father of depression. I would love to say a ‘NO’ to its proposal. Let it be a single parent.

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