re: people who leave

You liked a poet and thought you'd walk out unwritten?

I had finally managed to wiggle my heart away from the claws of my previous love interests; my heart was a blank slate ready to conquer the world.

This state of mind (though pleasant) elicited not a drop of emotion when I thought about anyone on Earth. I'm sure some would've killed to be in my position — isn't emotion the most deadly poison of all? Isn't the absence of sentiment absolutely liberating?

I can safely declare, though, that not feeling anything for anyone is a cruel thing to experience.

I do concede that without any muses in my heart, I could pour my passion into my studies. And it worked well. Besides, ironically enough, it was when I felt nothing for anyone that I grasped the weight of love the most deeply.

Being unable to don passion's soothing cloaks, I indulged in media and movies that I hoped would pry the shrouded mist away; that would reveal the secrets to affection that eluded me.

Nature has a way of returning to equilibrium, and I eventually grew woefully distracted by a brilliant soul. When I say that I plunged deep, I mean it. Day and night we spent discussing fascinating subjects, flinging in references here and there, supporting each other through that fleeting phase of life.

Of course, the person left. Of course they did. Don't they all leave in the end? Even so, even though it was not love per se, and instead a silly distraction, I do not regret a thing.

In fact, thank you to the person for those wonderful few months. I relished every second you spent granting me access to your thoughts. Thank you for letting me immerse myself in your captivating world. You will go far, and I will always clap for you from afar.

Clearly, I do always cherish the experience of getting to know someone to their depths. And I will never believe that talking stages are wastes of time, even if they often end in naught.

To be able to wear the boots of someone else through little bytes on a screen is such a delicate experience, don't you think?

Yet, this impermanent connection starkly opened my eyes — I was previously so contented even with the absence of a crush or attachment, because I was steadily devoted to causes that resided solely within my determined heart.

Two years ago, since my fascination had not been directed linearly, exclusively, at a single person, I was able to channel it into volunteering for the greater good. I felt tangibly what it meant to extend someone else's happiness into my soul.

I didn't realise it back then, due to the stress of my impending examinations, but I was probably the most fulfilled I had ever been in life. (admittedly a bold claim to make given that I'm not even two decades old)

So, I realised, this is where the love in me flows when there are no palms out to receive it.

And maybe I did regress, but maybe I do find regressing interesting. Aren't the lessons we glean from our life experiences things that we carry as day-to-day mental baggage — that shape who we are today, that are intertwined within our every thought?

So, what's with the landslides that plague our brains, be it inadvertently or not?

Perhaps regression is a matter of perspective. No one would really call an enlightened monk who descends from his mountain a failure. So, maybe it's not about the heights from which we fall, but whether we continue climbing afterwards. To chase greater heights; to seek greater rewards within our soul; to pursue greater enlightenment.

I really do wonder why our brains don't fully utilise their past mistakes, but rather recede into what they recognise as comfort. Perhaps that is the strangest contradiction of being human — that we understand our patterns but still return to the familiar, time and time again.

I re-emphasize how much of a tragedy it is to let oneself go, and I do believe that love is sometimes a curse that leads us astray. Yet, I am of course conflicted, since aren't partners and love interests people who are able to fulfill what we long for, who can soothe our inherent need to have our affections understood and returned wholly.

Both you and I may deny it, but deep down, our inner children want to be healed, badly, we want to feel commitment that encases our inner children and hugs them tightly, tells them that it's alright to cry now and let it all go.

Which brings me back to the person I let go with a heavy heart. Since I've struggled with vulnerability in the past years, I tried to break free of this with the recent whatever-it-was. I engaged in 2 am conversations about my traumas, I touched on things my longest friends have never thought of knowing.

Yet, as swift as it came, it went. Now, I'm left hanging, staring blankly at the snippets of my heart I shaved off.

I don't know if the person ever did pick up a little fragment to carry in their pocket (i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)). But I do hope they did.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did / and let me love you anyway

And I hope I shaped their worldview a little, I hope they became a better person, through me, and I hope that they hold someone else's heart more tenderly than they did mine.

I understand it now, that what I felt was never defined by the wound you left in me, but instead by the way you revitalised me. But I will search for the same spark in myself, and I will remember your name as I do.

I am finally ready to let you go.