To share the secrets closest to heart, or the ones that render most pain, one chooses a stranger. I was pretty young when I first read this. Took many years for me process. It was a whole new world of no best friends and no confidants when I did. A whole new world where strangers are who you choose to open up when you can’t share it with a best friend.

I was a stranger. I did not know a thing about you. And you did not know a thing about me. You had no responsibility towards me. To make me feel good. To rescue me from getting hurt. To care about what I do when I am not listening to you. You had no concerns. No concerns for my thoughts and emotions and validations and anything that might make you know me. Or make me know you. You were free. You were at ease. The most you could be, when you were with me. You could open your heart without fearing to break mine. For it did not matter to me – at least in your eyes. And it did not matter to you – more importantly. You could speak. As much. As long. As anything.

And then I spoke up. One day. No matter how much I regret to have spoken up. Truth is I did speak up one day. Making you know me. Making you care. Dragging me mercilessly out of the pool of strangers and putting me into acquaintances, friends, ah confidants. I was happy. Foolishly happy. It was a part of your world I hadn’t seen before. It was like a dream but awake. Oh I was so happy. Till I realized. Now you care. Till I realized, now I am a friend and confidant in a world of no friends and no confidants. Till I realized. I am no more the stranger you chose to open your heart to.


A part of you…

Few things fade pretty easy. Few die hard. Few never do. I do not know what category what falls in. I do not know what category this would fall in.

I once read somewhere, that everything that happens with you, every single event of your life, does a trade with you. A trade of you with a trade of itself. Everything that happens good or bad or plain neutral, gives you a part of it and takes away a part of you. A small part, a small corner, may be a corner of your diary or the pillow by your side… may be a corner of you smile or your heart. And when you have gone far away… forgetting the stories… forgetting the traces even… when you have learned to laugh it off… the part, the corner gone does not come back… neither the trace left with you goes away. It does not die… it lives there… inside the event… inside the moment… in the coffee lounge… on the street… in side you or inside the other person… somewhere… as if it was always there… like a habit… comfortable and home.

Going away is not brutal, leaving behind or being left behind is not… I don’t find departing brutal as long as you don’t destroy the part of me in you… as long as you don’t ask me to give you back what I have of you. As long as you let the trade fade in past… slowly disappearing but never vanishing completely… for it cannot. I will be hurt when and only when you ask me to undo the trade. When you tear off the roots… When you ask me to pluck out the moments of your existence off my existence…

… So don’t! Please don’t.

Let me believe in it… I won’t question it’s being truth or a lie… let me hear the memories… in the hush of every night… let me dream of you… let me feel you smiling in my smiles… let me feel you talking… let me find you in me… in each of my sigh!!

So… that was your best shot?

Not good enough dear! Just not good enough.

Your lessons have never been hard enough to stop me from making mistakes. Nor have your apologies been strong enough to make me numb. But all these times I thought you have your best weapons yet hidden in darks of some out of world caves. All these times I believed you could, you just don’t.

But today I think you can’t, today I think, you are not capable of wanting to hurt me. Today I think I have more of everything than you. I have courage more devilish than yours, I have love more feverish than yours, I have edges sharper than yours, I have promises way harder than yours, I have insanity way blind than yours, I have limits that you cannot push me off, I have wounds that you can’t heal, and faiths that you can’t break, secrets that you can’t laugh off, and a heart you cannot test.

You are afraid to hurt me to devastation, you fear that I will break and you won’t be able to fix that. You love me and that makes you weak, that makes your hurts weak, that makes you apologies weak. You love me and that makes you imprisoned.

I… on the contrary, I love you and that makes me free. I love you and that makes it easy to hurt you and fight with you and be angry with you. I love you and that gives me the freedom to break up with you and come back as many times. Freedom to cry and sob and laugh crazily in love. Freedom to push myself off the limits, off the edges for it’s your job to rescue me. Freedom to be blind and insane and feverishly high and low, for it’s your job to hold my hand and bring me home safe.

You can’t do that. Oh poor you! you can’t cry for me and you can’t smile in love, for you have to stay still in all my turbulence. You have to love me and yet not let me know. O My! You have to hurt me but not so hard that I break, you have cuddle me but not be so soft that I know you are falling for me, you have to teach me lessons that you know I won’t learn, you have to give me punishments after each of which I will wink at you and tell you that I love you! You hate to punish me… but you have to. You hate telling me that you love me, but you end up confessing. You have a whole lot to figure out, you have so much to take care of, you have so much to balance between, and I just don’t want to understand your cares, your rules, your limits… I like to believe you are limitless and I am stubborn in my beliefs. You want me to grow up and I don’t, you want me follow rules and I don’t, you want me to fear hurts and I don’t, you want me to be realistic but I have my myths dear! You try hard to break them and I smile back at you saying… so… that was your best shot?