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Letting go of someone close to you

I must refrain from over-sharing here yet I do my best to reflect on the entire experience and dump my few insights of it as a barely-teen barely-adult kind of being. Safe to say it is a page from my journal.I have rewatched and taken notes from a lot of Bollywood movies but why did not one prepped me for this.

The bump was rapid and immediate. My fellowship was new, exciting, and thrilling and the familiarity amongst us rested like an old photograph discovered of a toddler you.

Adhering to my Saggitarus Sun, I am very comfortable with quitting people. But quitting someone you shared so many stories, moments and aspirations feel like making a Horcrux and abandoning it. However, today I still go on with my day: dance to Bollywood songs, obsess over Koffee with Karan and watch South Indian movies. I still procrastinate and struggle to reach places on time. Nothing really changed. I don’t feel like a new person but also a bit wiser and at ease. Should the credit rest on my companion or me?

I reflect back on my journey. It doesn’t feel good to know I terminated something that could have gone forever to a beautiful extent. But like Shrinkhala said in her podcast ‘What is this infinity? How is it that something doesn’t end? Is that ever possible?’

Is forever limited to abstracts and vows or does it clasp an area on the numerical line? I for one will never know.

For me, feelings and emotions have the highest value. It is what makes us human. The sheer quality of feeling things: strings tugging at the deepest corners of the heart. 1984 by George Orwell depicts a story of a society where the big men try to erase emotion, the most effective is the removal of words from the dictionary. If you don’t feel anger and unrest, how will you revolt? If you don’t feel scared and fragile, how will you trust? If you don’t feel hurt, how will you love?

During the sunny days of my 10th-grade classroom, my friend compiled a list of phrases and gave a speech on ‘The love you present to a partner’ on which my English teacher told us to stick to topics we knew. I glanced at the note before me which was scribbled with the topic ‘I’ and instantly felt a pang of guilt for defying her remarks.

How much do I know of Vladimir Putin and of his ex-spy days? How little I know of myself. Truthfully, when I sat down to write an article, my first attempt was to draft an article on ‘Will China be the next super-power?’ with a few tabs opened from google scholar for reference. I’ll research US army bases and China’s technologies for unethical data collection but is it helpful writing about international turmoil when my insides burn with disorientation?

I remember the past few months and feel emotions that bring chaos to my simple life. It makes me feel all sorts of things. I may know nothing of love but what little I know from my moma, the last few months I dispersed it immensely to people; while some got less, some got more. I kept myself on the streets, cut open my heart, and let the love flow like Ganga. Likewise, it flowed back in, from places unimagined and unheard of.

Now that the source is lost, the corolla weeps and calls back my heart’s petals. I need no more, I take no more. Now, I collect everything I have lost and I have gained with which I staple my heart. Quietly.

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