A Letter

A letter written six years back.. or maybe five and a half.. a letter that was forgotten, hiding in the black-text-on-white-MS word-document on my personal laptop forever.. Came across it today as I was going through some of my old writings, looking for something else.. Was telling a friend how I almost cannot believe how deep into my heart I had delved into back in those days.. I think I can put it up now; it's part of the letting go, I guess..

Hey.

I guess I’m not, by nature, one of those who shares feelings easily. It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s more so that I cannot. And the times I’ve tried to, I’ve found it undoable. It’s not always easy for me to explain, even to you – one of the people I consider closest to me, the complexity of my feelings and the depth of my reaction to certain experiences. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to you straight about the random stuff I was hearing. You know, because I couldn’t talk to you and it was all getting stuffed and hot between my ears, I quit asking people stories about the trip to Dooars.. Believe me if you will, but the fact of the matter is that I was really, really stretched thin and yet not for a moment did I actually believe any of the stuff I was hearing.. 

Remember the SMS I had sent you pleading you to inform me at least when you started liking a guy as more than a friend ? Well, that’s about as close as I could come to talking to you about it.. That is, until yesterday.. when I felt like my head was about to explode and finish me off for good.. Might not have been so bad, it appears in hindsight. All I could so for the last I-don’t-know-how-many-days was hope.. Hope..

There was this feeling of helplessness.. Like a fear that decisions – decisions that would render me unable to function normally ever again – were being made in my absence, that not everything that I wanted to know, NEEDED to know, was being made known to me.. and yet I dreaded knowing them.. One of the reasons I can never manage to ask you thing about your.. love life, so to speak.. is because I am mortally scared of what the answer might do to me.. Yes, I know I’m a weakling, but that’s just the way it is.. And you’ve never done anything specific to make me feel this way; it’s just the way I am.. Also, keeping in line with what I said in the SMSs, I’ve always kind of had this feeling that I’m downright lucky to have found someone like you.. and that it was wonderful enough to me that I could make you laugh and spend time with you and.. I’ve just never thought that I had any right whatsoever of asking you personal stuff.. and when I have, it’s taken a lot of courage or a hasty, desperate impulse.. Like when I was in ****** and heard about the ***** incident and subsequently asked you about it over SMS.. I typed, erased and re-typed that SMS about ten times before I could not take it anymore and sent it.. It’s like I’ve always felt that you weren’t as such answerable to me.. I mean, really, who was I ? A friend, yes.. but nothing more.. Heck, I myself don’t consider myself answerable to all my friends! Why should you be any different, I thought.. Maybe you’d feel I was trying to invade your privacy.. It’s not your fault, I repeat. It’s the sad creature I am..

There is also a reluctance to be thought a complainer. I mean, how many times have I sort of complained about this issue? I myself don’t know.. I feel an ocean times of what I say and I think I’ve managed to say my grievance quite a few times.. There is the feeling of a lack in confidence, the subconscious feeling that perhaps my thoughts are a manifestation of my own inadequacy… There is the conflict between the terror of eternal loneliness and the desire to be left alone.. I’ve kept these feelings dormant inside of me for I don’t know how long.. I guess they don’t matter.. because this isn’t about me, really.. It’s about you. Look, I just wanted you to know that I really, really thought that I was losing you.. And it hurt.. so much.. You’re possibly true when you say that I’m hurting myself, but it appears that I’ve developed quite a liking to it.. Maybe I’ll grow prone to it one day.. I’ve told myself that the inevitable must be faced and accepted; perhaps not with dignity, but accepted all the same.. that one day I will lose you.. that one day I will become like the man who comes back from a tiring ordeal far, far away and finds no one waiting for him at the airport.. It’s just taking a rather long time.. But I’ll keep going at it..

I hope I’ve got across to you. Thank you for reading this through. Take Care.