Loneliness creeps in like uninvited air through an open window at night.
He tells you that you need to let him inside.
And makes you heavy hearted and head filled with thoughts.
He befriends your dreams and in wake, you realize the lies he weaved for you and you become empty as reality is cruel.
You feel hollow like a vaccum and only tears become your refuge.
Loneliness hovers around and marks his presence when two lovers have a moment in front of you.
Feeling the ache for a touch or a hug that would shake off the lone soldier within.
He comes and cradles you while you look at the fan on the window and know you are alone.
Or worse when you are in the company of people and still feel the throbbing splinters of pain severing through your heart.
Only the pillow and the music knows how to console and keep him away.
Only a room with no one but you can relieve you from feeling alone.
Loneliness knows how to make you sad and content all at once.
But only if you let him.
We use the terms casually now, ‘friend zone, ‘family zone’, school zone’, as if we refer to objects with no emotions. We laugh behind people who lay their hearts bare for us to see the openness in their ‘falling for you’. Because it is impossible to love a guy you have known for so long. But we are so busy loving people we have never met. We stay up late drafting letters without addresses just so the paper could catch our fear and keep it.
‘They are all the same’, we say, when our broken hearts beat helplessly on the ground on which we praised people we honored like royalty when we were nothing to them. We drain our bodies of tears as if we will be whole again. Even after such dreadful experiences, we think we know we will always live another day. In some way, we fake our happiness in waiting for love. Waiting for someone we have weaved tirelessly in our heads and continuously to make them come alive. And they never.
And yet we are choosy. When a genuine guy narrates the fateful tale of falling and the longing to taste our lips, we deny them even of a touch. Because we are so in love with someone we have never met, someone else. So lost in the maze of finding true love. We are lost because we try to find that which needs to find us. We are lost because those we have imprisoned in ‘zones’ are the very ones we could be loving this moment.
Time is never certain and we hold no power. We don’t have the strength to become lovers not when we are swayed easily by clothes, cars, cash we sometimes sweat for at night. Writing stories to be hidden but stay as proof on bodies as fingerprints and fading cologne and cigarette smokes and this and that. We search for love in bad boys leaving brothers whom we grew up with. Brothers we have learnt to trust while young minds were soft and never kept bad memories. Brothers who saw us naked many times and all they saw was beauty. Instead we love those women’ sons who know not the struggle. Who subconsciously pressure us to become women before we are girls. To become mothers before we are wives. To become theirs before ourselves.
Those who let you in and have been there, are those who have loved you even before you started on a journey to find love. Love was always there. Love is here. And time? Keeps on going.
One thing why society never progresses, its the bubble they keep us in.
Just because your father is a pastor, you ought to act like a pastors daughter. One who mutes her youth because apparently being fun, going clubbing, taking road trips is forbidden. They forget that you can have a different approach to life and that you cannot just be someone’s daughter without being someone. Someone who doesn’t necessacirily have the same faith or no faith at all.
They forget that faith is a connection one has with God. Not how you talk, dress or write. Still the very same people take credit for crippling your explorations when they never had no obligation to be when they had their time.The right to become who you are destined to be, does not come from the expectations society ties you up with.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we should binge on alcohol and drug ourselves to death. We just need to let go of what societies say about you because in the end, you live alone and die alone. So I’m an advocate for youth. We need to live a little.
There should be room to live. To breathe without fear that wearing shorts, twerking, getting a tattoo or simply voicing an opinion is only reserved for the ‘unworthy’. Honestly, you need a past to look back on and see how God intervened. You need to make mistakes in order to correct what they future may give you. You need purpose to be saved from ‘sin’ as they phrase. But before all this, recognising being human and celebrating it will set us free. And choose to not live out of fear to please society but only to have a connection with God while you are youthful.
Can we talk?
About embarrassing, uncomfortable and scary things.
Talk about our fears, nightmares and failures.
Not just the pretty dreams and fairy tales
Cause life is not that.
If I am sharing yours with mine
Narrate to me who you are:
Who you have been throughout time.
Tell me how you get angry
How you cry and try to remain the man
You are pressured to become.
Tell me about your weaknesses;
Situations which melt your heart.
Not just pillow talk which always
Aims for a smile.
While we mask the bad part.
Let me into the ugliness of it all.
Childhood traumas and past events.
I want to know how you vent.
Today I need to know you
In every way.
This surface talk drains me.
We always paint woderful things
Admiring glass on tables
Not the beauty of shattered pieces.
We always sing songs of love
Forgetting our calling
To love ourselves before the other.
But we still bother.
Say ‘I love you’ when there is
Too much going on.
And I want the ‘behind the scenes’
Not the perfected movie.
So can we talk?
And walk through life
I can’t just be your wife
With a ring as a validation
There has got to be more bond in our shared emotion.
Rainbows are scarce these days.
Rain forgot to soothe the cracks of Earth
And we are still trying to catch butterflies.
Still carving our names on trees, inside hearts.
But we can no longer be the same.
Lust rusted the trust of love we thought to last.
The past put pain where we least expected.
And took away the only star you knew by name.
Our constellation has moved since then.
Shapes of loneliness blanket us with dimmed, fading sparks lead to the end.
And the universe is not kind no more.
We try to find words for specific events
But life ends. All the time. Everyday.
And it hurts to the core.
Eulogies have to be said.
Every one unique to the other.
Every one with its own pain.
Even though we wonder….
‘Do they really hear us?’