And it hurts again. All over again. With renewed vigour, with feverish intensity- it hurts again.
Selflessness is a virtue that rests on the demolition of one's existence. Of course, four years back as I was typing my first blog article, I had no idea I would be writing about this someday.
Ta-daaaa. Four years later, that day is here.
Time. Now this guy is tricky. He is sly, shrewd and crooked. It flies when you are having fun. Soon enough, in slow motion, those very 'fun moments' end up as holes inside of you somewhere down the line. It took me four years to realize this: happy memories of the present only make for nasty scars of the future.
So it hurts. The constantly shadowing realization of all the time that was invested...and wasted. All the effort, the feelings, the prayers and the good will- all invested and wasted.
I'm a self critic, and on analyzing the girl who had sat down to type her first blog article, I see naivete. I see immaturity. Above all, I see the girl who lived by the ideals of selflessness. I laugh.
I chide myself for being who I am. The world ain't got no place for that.
I get attached. My Achilles' tendon lies right there, and if you were to target an arrow at it, I'd fall face-flat. I'm wired like that. To give and give and continue to give. Why? Because I get attached.
But not everybody is engineered that way. As a kid, I remember playing this super fun game called Lock and Key. Turns out, Use and Throw happens to be a more 'advanced' version of it. So how does that work?
Use when needed. Throw when not.
Attached when needed. Detached when not.
I do not make high and mighty claims of virtue, that is all bullshit. I just wish I got a milli from the millions I had put in. Is that too much to ask for? Is it too much to ask for a little understanding, and a little comfort that says, "I'll be there for you?"
Is it too much to wish for a little value in return, for all those sleepless nights spent adding value to someone else's life?
Then again, I know the answers to all of that. It was all a game of Use and Throw. It was a game whose winning mantra rested on my Achilles' Heel. If you got that, the trophy was yours.
The knowledge of 'being replaced' is perhaps the most devastating. The feeling of not being needed, of not being important enough to be needed- that shit hurts. It does not hurt like a stab wound, it is a pain of the dull, throbbing variety. It is the pain that makes your eyes flood in those moments of utter loneliness. It is the pain that makes you choke, pain that makes you want to spontaneously combust. That shit hurts.
Kuch is tarah nazar andaaz hogaye Faraaz,
Jaise izaafi hurf the hum teri zindagi ki kitaab mein
(Nazar andaaz= Ignored; Izaafi hurf=Silent letters)
Loneliness is a silent killer. And Time is an accomplice.
While Loneliness is doing it's job of ripping you apart, all that Time that was unflinchingly devoted rubs on you like salt.
Even memories fade, thank God for that. But nothing fills those gaps- gaps which are a screaming testimony to the weakling you have been.
You will beg for Loneliness to kill you, and it will only grin and say "What's the hurry?"
It kills you fibre for fibre, cell for cell, breath for breath.
Which brings me back to my point: selflessness rests on the demolition of one's existence. Because to give and receive is how the trade runs, it is how the human lives; any deviation from that is a step towards inhumanity. So after 4 years of being a tissue that was trampled over, I know now when to pack my bags and leave. The mere gust of wind that brings news of being taken for granted will see me make my courteous exit. I have embraced for long enough. Now I only wish to escape.
In hope, that maybe now, it won't hurt so much.
Selflessness is a virtue that rests on the demolition of one's existence. Of course, four years back as I was typing my first blog article, I had no idea I would be writing about this someday.
Ta-daaaa. Four years later, that day is here.
Time. Now this guy is tricky. He is sly, shrewd and crooked. It flies when you are having fun. Soon enough, in slow motion, those very 'fun moments' end up as holes inside of you somewhere down the line. It took me four years to realize this: happy memories of the present only make for nasty scars of the future.
So it hurts. The constantly shadowing realization of all the time that was invested...and wasted. All the effort, the feelings, the prayers and the good will- all invested and wasted.
I'm a self critic, and on analyzing the girl who had sat down to type her first blog article, I see naivete. I see immaturity. Above all, I see the girl who lived by the ideals of selflessness. I laugh.
I chide myself for being who I am. The world ain't got no place for that.
I get attached. My Achilles' tendon lies right there, and if you were to target an arrow at it, I'd fall face-flat. I'm wired like that. To give and give and continue to give. Why? Because I get attached.
But not everybody is engineered that way. As a kid, I remember playing this super fun game called Lock and Key. Turns out, Use and Throw happens to be a more 'advanced' version of it. So how does that work?
Use when needed. Throw when not.
Attached when needed. Detached when not.
I do not make high and mighty claims of virtue, that is all bullshit. I just wish I got a milli from the millions I had put in. Is that too much to ask for? Is it too much to ask for a little understanding, and a little comfort that says, "I'll be there for you?"
Is it too much to wish for a little value in return, for all those sleepless nights spent adding value to someone else's life?
Then again, I know the answers to all of that. It was all a game of Use and Throw. It was a game whose winning mantra rested on my Achilles' Heel. If you got that, the trophy was yours.
The knowledge of 'being replaced' is perhaps the most devastating. The feeling of not being needed, of not being important enough to be needed- that shit hurts. It does not hurt like a stab wound, it is a pain of the dull, throbbing variety. It is the pain that makes your eyes flood in those moments of utter loneliness. It is the pain that makes you choke, pain that makes you want to spontaneously combust. That shit hurts.
Kuch is tarah nazar andaaz hogaye Faraaz,
Jaise izaafi hurf the hum teri zindagi ki kitaab mein
(Nazar andaaz= Ignored; Izaafi hurf=Silent letters)
Loneliness is a silent killer. And Time is an accomplice.
While Loneliness is doing it's job of ripping you apart, all that Time that was unflinchingly devoted rubs on you like salt.
Even memories fade, thank God for that. But nothing fills those gaps- gaps which are a screaming testimony to the weakling you have been.
You will beg for Loneliness to kill you, and it will only grin and say "What's the hurry?"
It kills you fibre for fibre, cell for cell, breath for breath.
Which brings me back to my point: selflessness rests on the demolition of one's existence. Because to give and receive is how the trade runs, it is how the human lives; any deviation from that is a step towards inhumanity. So after 4 years of being a tissue that was trampled over, I know now when to pack my bags and leave. The mere gust of wind that brings news of being taken for granted will see me make my courteous exit. I have embraced for long enough. Now I only wish to escape.
In hope, that maybe now, it won't hurt so much.
