Hey there. It’s been a while. About six months? I have started to lose count. The days seem to be less blurry though. My vision seems to have cleared now. I feel and see things differently these days. I feel these pangs of vulnerability, creeping up to me every night. I also feel these outbursts of joy, peeking their way out of the most mundane things. Between these two, I see glimpses of you.
I think about you sometimes. Well, a lot of times. Okay, well all the time. I miss you. I miss the way you leaned close to me hanging on to my every word, as if it were a jeweled drop. I remember the way your voice sounded in the morning, all husky and thick with sleep. I loved those times when you would catch my furtive glances and throw a wink in my way. I miss those times when a simple smile would make me blush.
I miss your presence in my life. You have left behind a gaping hole which no soothing song or motivational book can fill. You have left behind love: irrational, unconditional, irrevocable love. You have taught me passion. You have taught me to be human, bringing to surface my innermost impulses and desires. You showed me what it was to be really free.
I move around lost going from one person to another, just wishing to see that familiar glimpse of care, of hopefulness, of unbridled joy that I saw in you. But glimpses are all I can get. Till then, I wander around lost, hoping and searching and wishing. It’s hard to find people like that, you know. It’s harder to find people like you.
People tell me it’s madness, that I must move on. But I know better. What we had was real, was true, was love. And I am not going to let it go. It’s what makes me, me. It’s what keeps me awake at nights like these, helping me pour my heart out on paper. It’s this madness that keeps the child alive in me. It’s this madness that causes this incoherency as I struggle, seeking words that cannot possibly describe what I feel.
Till then, I will retreat to my blanket, thinking about your cuddles and your scent. I will imagine your warmth and will make it through another night, feeling the pangs of vulnerability as I sleep. I still think about you at these times. Well maybe, most of the time. Okay, all the time. Do you?