The Diary Of An Abandoned Heart.

"You're the best things that's happened to me in all my years on this earth" is what I would've said to him, had I gotten the opportunity. But no. There were no explanations or words of depart. He left without giving me a chance to even say goodbye.

Every morning, its the same sinking feeling as I open my eyes to the harsh stillness that is his side of the bed. I still haven't quite gotten used to waking up without him...
...How he'd tell me I was the prettiest in the morning.
Sheets that usually are a bundle of tangled linen from his tossing and turning all night, remain neatly folded and untouched. The eerieness of it unsettles me. I can still smell his scent all around me, on the bed, on my clothes, my body. Or maybe its all just in my head.

I go through the day. Quietly and subtly. A song reminds me of him as it blares on the radio and appeals to listeners all around. But not me, no. For me its a bittersweet symphony. For me, I'm transported back to what seems like ages ago. To a conversation..
To a corridor...
To a beautiful blue eyed boy...
As I go through the day, I pass the town square, the park where we used to meet. I pass the chapel on the corner, while The bells chime over and over again as if to say, "He's here. He always will be."
But it doesn't feel that way.

My loved ones are watching me, cautiously. Waiting for me to break or implode with the sadness and pain his departure has caused. I tell them I'm fine. It is a lie, told ofcourse in the hopes that one day ill believe it myself.
They're waiting to catch me if I fall but the truth is, I've been falling ever since that fateful day.
Falling into a bottomless pit. Slowly getting sucked into oblivion...
And there's nothing they, or I can do about it.

The nights are the worst. Its when the nightmares come. He'd always have some kind of music playing, pulling me into his arms and twirling me around the hall when we got home. Now all that's left is a cold and empty space. Just like the one im in within my body.
I go to bed and lay there for hours, hoping that at any minute Il wake up from this nightmare and he'll comfort me back to sleep. But it only worsens as I close my eyes and let all of his haunting memories take over me...
Slowly...but surely.

Truth is, I haven't been the same since the day he walked. And it shows through slight cracks in the facade I put on to convince the world im okay.
Truth is, I don't think I'll ever recover from this loss, this abandonment. With him gone, the ground has slipped from under my feet. And I've been running ever since.
Truth is, this nightmare will never end, I know. But there's nothing I can do about it.


Another day. Open my eyes. Repeat.

Home.

Resurrection Ascension Church, Woodhaven Boulevard- Queens.

I sit on the third to last pew on the right side of the church.  Sunlight streams through the tainted windows that depict various scenes and different incidents from the Bible.  The 11.00 mass has just ended.  The crowd slowly makes its way to the door.  Some stop to greet people they know.  Some try to keep up with their four and six year olds as they run along the benches and down the aisles. Others converse with the pastor who has just celebrated the Eucharist.  The sacristan clears the altar.  He puts the chalice in a rectangular little box with a cross on it, and puts the Eucharist in the tabernacle set in the Blessed Sacrament behind the altar.  The cross on the left is covered as a reverence, and the coming of Easter.  A little ahead of me, sits a man probably in his late 40s.  He doesn't seem to move, or want to make his way to the door.  On my left, in the center of the church, or at least somewhat in the center, sits a Baptismal fount.  It is a circular basin that overflows water into a pool at the base.  I was told that people, who wished to convert to Christianity, were dipped into the water and baptized as Jesus was, at the river Jordan all those lifetimes ago.  The basin is used for newborns, while the Easter candle which bears the symbols of The Alpha and Omega – The Beginning and The End, stands tall at the side of the basin waiting to be lit during the Easter Vigil.    

I’m not that religious, really.  Do I believe there is a god?  Yes.  Do I believe that everyone should believe the same?  No.  For me, coming for Sunday mass has become more of an obligation rather than keeping the Sabbath Day holy.  I look on at the pastor, as he greets people, and imagine the things transpiring between the two parties.  Some ask for his blessings and to intercede their prayers, while others tell him of marvels that have occurred in the name of the Almighty Father.  No, I’m not religious.  Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean I don’t have FAITH.

May, will mark a year since I first set foot into this country.  In these past months, I have had ups and I have had downs.  Times when I have wished for nothing more than to go home.  Back to where I came from.  Back to the known and the familiar.  Back to where my life meant something and my dreams were just dreams.  Back to the comfortable little bubble that I built my whole world in.  I have had moments when I have felt lost and defeated.  Let down and thrown off guard by that cruel visitor called Change.  And at that time when nothing seemed easy and everything seemed lost, that time when everything around me felt strange and alien, this church, this 3rd to last pew on the right hand side is what reminded me of home.  Of the all the times I spent at the back of that church back in India, and had screaming matches with God.  (Well, technically I was screaming in my head because we were supposed to observe silence.)  It reminded me, of the days I sat and cried through my first heartbreak and begged Him to JUST MAKE THE PAIN STOP.  The times of immense joy that I shared with him in the form of swigs of wine sneaked from the Sacristy.  This church reminded me that no matter how lost I am, or however defeated I feel, I could always come home.  To Him.  Because he was home.  And ALWAYS would be.  Right in the heart of the unknown and the unfamiliar.

The man sitting ahead of me still hasn’t moved.  Maybe, like me, it isn’t only mass that confines him to the four walls of this place.

Things she said...

"I'm lost." she said.
"I can't do this anymore." she said.
"It's too much." she said.
"I'm a burden" she said.

"I've got nothing" she said.
"I am nothing" she said.  
"I will always be nothing" she said.
"I'm not capable" she said.
"It's too painful" she said.

"I'm not strong enough" she said
"I'm not good enough" she said.
"I'm not worthy enough" she said.
"It's too much to bear" she said.

"I'm happy" she said.
"I'm okay" she said.
"I'm better" said.
"I'll be fine" she said.
 
"This is it" she said.
"No more hurt" she said.
"I'll be free" she said.
"It's over" she said.

"Goodbye, pain" she said.
"Hello, death" she said.

The Last Song.

The last song we sang was a song of hate. A song that I'd gotten so used to hearing. So much so, that you could say I'd even begun to love it...
The masochist that I am, I'd even come to enjoy it...
But there was only so much even a masochistic being like me could endure.
It was the final hurtful notes I would encounter at your hands.
The last song we sang was one of insults. Where you ran me down in the only way, the only language you knew I'd understand.
The only thing that you knew would hit home...
For months I listened to you compose ballads about how I was never good enough. How despite how many times you said it, eventually, I was never the girl you loved.
It never really settled in, even now sometimes, I go back, play the song, listen to the tune and wonder why?
But I realize that deep down I always knew this song- OUR song- would be over...way before its end was nigh.
And all those months I believed you... Just like I'd believed you whenever after any song, your eyes would meet mine. I had a hard time accepting, what everyone else around me already saw, I had a hard time accepting that you couldn't be anything else, but right.
If I could now, I swear I would go back in time and listen to my own subconscious subtle song of advice.
So this last song... The one that you filled with hatred and painful words, was a song of acceptance. A song that cracked through my dark hole and finally gave me a glimpse of light.

A light, a song, a melody that will now forever be MINE.

Unkissed

Somewhere in a quiet little town, a little boy cries.
He's alone in his bedroom, with nothing but his toys to keep him satisfied.
He can't seem to make sense of the shouting and harsh words being exchanged, beyond his bedroom door and down the hall.
But the only thing he wants is to feel the soothing voice of his father and the warm kisses from his mother, sheltering him from it all.
But his mommy and daddy, forget to acknowledge his existence...so engulfed in the heated exchange of words they are.
They fail to remember that little boy, who wants nothing more than to be comforted and missed.
As he falls asleep...scared, without hope and unkissed.

Somewhere  on a battlefield, a man falls to his death.
And while he breathes his last, there is all but one image that comes to his head.
The face of a beauty so pure and serene.
The gap that his absence will now bring...
The hole in her heart that will now form from him being terribly missed.. as she learns to go on without him.....
...Alone and Unkissed.

Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere a girl sits by herself.
Shes battered. shes bruised, shes broken, having known the lustful pleasures of this world all too well.
She knows an act of passion, she feels it grow with every man she entices... she walks the streets for money, having never known the gentle refuge of a man's warm embrace.
She enjoys it, her senses entwine itself in it...only because she believes that's who she is.
But at the end of the day, she's still a girl with a heart that's never been touched...
A mind that's never been loved.
...And a soul that still remains Unkissed.

He knows how much he misses her, deep down somewhere in his questioning heart.
He goes through everyday free and embracing life, but the absence of her essence leaves him in the dark.
She needs him, wants him. She's fallen hard, she knows that now.
But she wont let her guard down, her ego has her sitting on a throne, high and proud.
Both of them...on a break that neither can survive,
but neither will admit, thinking of what's best for the other therefore taking it in their stride...

The very core of their hearts, overwhelmed with longing and the regret of letting him go...
..Unkissed. 

I Love Me, He Loves Me Not.

For the most part of this past year, I was determined to believe that I was anything but wrong. And while a part of me still believes it, I know now that I was, that I am, everything that a good girl isn't made of.
I loved you. I loved you so strongly, it set me on a high, that I found very hard to come down from. So when gravity finally slapped me back on concrete, all I wanted to do was curl up and lay on the ground in the ashes of a fire that id lit and fueled, all on my own.
I hated you. I hated you so fiercely that after a certain point, all I could feel was anger for something that I had subconsciously done but pinned on you. Anger that killed every bit of innocence that resided in this now hard heart of mine.
I envied you. Because you had everything that I wanted. That id always wished for. Everything that id almost had, but that I let slip away helplessly. YOU were everything that I needed and could never have.
I despised you. I despised you, for the way you treated me. The way you made me feel so loved and then crumpled me like a piece of paper.  Because of how badly you let me down. I forever believed in you and convinced myself that you could never be wrong. And yet, it seems to me now, that you never thought highly of me in the first place.
I was never good enough for you...
And probably never will be.
All of this, all of you, is what had me waking up in cold sweat with a pounding heart for the past year. Because I couldn't stop the dreams...the nightmares. The pain that felt so real, it was impossible to believe my subconscious was playing dark twisted games with me. While I could say I tried to fight it ( I attempted to, a couple of times.) I would be lying if I said I gave it my all. Because despite everything, the pain was something I had decided to hold dear.
As the only remainder of what was, I secretly let it take over.
I embraced and enjoyed the agony.
However I couldn't spend the rest of my life succumbing to the numbness. The choking feeling had to stop...
It had to end...
Yes, I was difficult, I was stubborn and hard to understand. But that never gave you the right to shun me and put me down. It never gave you the right to leave me at a time when I needed YOU the most.
And I realize now that I was always better than you made me out to be.
With or without you.
No, I'm not a good girl. I'm not even close. What I am though, is a believer and a fighter. And for the last year and a half Id forgotten this. I had gotten so used to being loved by you, that id forgotten how to love myself. And when finally you stopped I didn't know how to be anything but broken. I didn't know how to look at myself in the mirror and find the girl that- not YOU but- I loved.
The girl I am here, today is the truth of my reality. I'm impulsive and dramatic and never easy.
I will never be good enough for you...
Because you want the best, and I'm anything but. This is who I am, this is all I can be. Flaws and all, even if you tried, you could never really love me.
The essence of you that i used to feel around me, has danced away with the wind...like the ashes of the fire I had started, which eventually led me to my impending doom.  And while a little of you is still a part of me, everyday it fades faster and faster...like the scars of a battle, slowly dissolving into my tender flesh covered with layers and layers of my skin.
Never to be seen.
Never to be known.
Never to be felt.
EVER AGAIN.

A Mother's Love.

I walked into the room cautiously. She was sitting on the bed, folding the clothes, her back towards me. The sight of her made my heart sink. Another wave of nausea hit me as it always did when I thought about telling her what I was going to tell her now. Mostly it was because I  always wanted to believe I was doing the right thing and it would never come to this, and even after that proved to be false, I was just too stubborn to admit that she was right, right from the start. As I walked up to her and patted her on the back, she turned around and smiled, handing me a bunch of clothes that I needed to put in my bag and joked around saying something about how they were washed now and I'll have beautifully fragrant clothes for the trip. Her jokes however, were in vain, because I could barely hear her from the words that were swimming in my head. "Where do I begin? How do I tell her? More importantly, WHAT do I tell her? Will she be upset? Will she grumble? Will she say the words that I'd inevitably come to hear and that had begun to haunt me even in my sleep? "I told you so." Could I do this? SHOULD I do this? Maybe its just better if I don't say anything. But I knew, even as all these questions clogged my mind, that I was going to tell her.
She must've sensed something, because her smile was slowly replaced by a questioning look in her eyes. She probably also noticed the obvious obscurity that was my face. At first, with the way she was looking at me, a funny image crossed my mind where she thought I was pregnant or something. The blatant absurdity of that alone almost made me laugh. ALMOST.
As she watched me, I closed my eyes, licked my lips to make sure that it was not dry with nerves, took a deep breath, and began..
Somewhere in between my story, I opened my eyes. But not once did I look in her direction. Not once did I glance to see what her reaction was. All I did was look at my hands. As the words tumbled out, I didn't think of what I was telling her. I just told her everything. Everything that had happened. Everything that id felt. Everything that I had gone through. How she was right all along. How love or at least the idea of it had made me blind. How I had failed to see what I should've seen. How I had gone against everything everyone said because I wanted to defy the universe. It all came out. Word after word. Emotion after emotion. Feeling after feeling.
When I was done, I looked up. My eyes were surprisingly dry, even though I had the terrible urge to bawl them out. But I stayed calm. I shook my head and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I should've listened to you. It would never have come to this if I had."
When I was finally valiant enough to look at her, I was given the last reaction that I'd ever expected. I expected her to be smirking, I expected her to be laughing with triumph, I expected her to say, "I told you so." The very words that Id come to despise. I expected her to shoo me away and make me sulk in a corner rather than come to her for comfort. I expected the cold shoulder. But when I looked at her, all she did was pull me close and wrap her arms around me.
And that was it. That's when it finally hit home. That's when the pain that id been carrying like a burden for all those months, came gushing out in a wave of salt water running down my cheeks. The pain of a broken heart. The pain of hearing everyone around me say, "I told you he would leave." The pain of useless hope. The pain of, 'I never loved you. I would never have come back.' The pain of "you're too much drama" The pain of haunting nightmares of memories that had seared themselves into my brain. I let it all out, as I held on to her tightly and sobbed till my heart went numb.
When i finally pulled back and looked at her face, all i saw was tears. Tears that were rolling down those lovely cheeks that were slightly beginning to wrinkle with age. She was looking at me with so much love. Her nose turning a slight color of crimson. I'd expected a smirk, instead I'd gotten a tear. Id expected a laugh of triumph, instead I'd gotten a cry of grief. Instead of "I told you so." I'd gotten, "Oh, my poor babydoll." And instead of the cold shoulder that I was so blindly expecting, she pulled me close into a warm tight embrace. I looked at her and that was my moment of clarity. In that moment, I realized that I wasn't the only one who had suffered all those months. When I cried myself to sleep at night, she cried with me. When I hid the pain under that big smile that I gave everybody, she fretted with me. Despite the fact that I had kept it all from her, she knew every little detail. Every emotion, every feeling, every expression whether seen or hidden. Because she was my mother. And I was a part of her. The very core of her existence. She made me, and therefore knew every little thing that her daughter felt. She knew my soul. Because we were connected, and always would be. My mother loved me, and no matter what, always would.

That was my moment of clarity. That was the moment I knew. The moment when the pieces of my broken heart picked itself up and pieced itself together. All it took was acceptance...
...and a mother's love.