To Us, Who Couldn’t Be

A certain feeling of the writing being on the wall and me being unable to notice it hung around my neck like a noose gradually being tightened, a noose which wouldn’t kill me but would stop tightening at just the moment of extreme discomfort and breathlessness.

To;
Us;
Who Couldn’t Be.

There are little things in life that justify being quaint, particularly in this racing world. Yet, there still remains room for a good, old fashioned letter, particularly in circumstances like this; where none of us know what to say but have a lot to convey. I don’t hope to speak for you, and while I can only talk about me, I do think you are not very far off from what I have to say, so it eventually borders onto ‘us’.

What we were is not what we are, that is clear. To be fair, our versions of what we ‘were’ don’t match anymore, and I am surprised we managed to spend what time we could in the way we could.

Things went wrong. They went wrong in a manner I had epitomes of nostalgia associated with. I tried to say, there were times when I could be absolutely sure what your next line would be, and what your response would be. Not because I know you that well, that’s never a possibility in months of internet chats, but because our conversation had reached a point where in I had a constant case of Déjà vu, at almost every word, sentence and paragraph.

The déjà vu was as powerful as any. They brought back a notion of, ‘here we go again’; and ‘I should have seen this coming’. A certain feeling of the writing being on the wall and me being unable to notice it hung around my neck like a noose gradually being tightened, a noose which wouldn’t kill me but would stop tightening at just the moment of extreme discomfort and breathlessness. And unfortunately, the marks of my previous escape from the noose were still a little raw.

There were things I couldn’t explain, there were things you wouldn’t understand, and there were many things you thought you understood but you didn’t. And I don’t blame you for it. I, for instance, am no one to go around blaming people. Things you couldn’t understand were things I hope you never understand, because to understand them you need a certain experience to empathize, and I wish you never have those experiences. Then again, you having dealt with someone living with the repercussions of those experiences may have given you a certain curiosity, but please don’t go about being Pandora who can’t resist the temptation. Coming back to the things you wouldn’t understand, again, it is not because you didn’t have the ability to understand, but because you didn’t have the will to accept them in their crudeness. You saw beauty in ruggedness and good things in bad, which I admire, but were just not that. It is in these differences of experiences and understanding that a chasm opened up, and since I knew how wide it can be and futile it would be to try and jump across, I decided that it would be wise to say it quits. It wasn’t the most morally upright decision, but it was one which kept both – you and me – safe. May be you do not get how this keeps you safe, but just by keeping you from jumping I hope I prevent you from burning into the fires beneath.

I appreciate what you’ve done, what you’ve said and what you’ve sent. I have never been a good receiver, either of good things or bad, so I just accept things with a customary thank you for everything. Since you had refuted the ‘thank yous’ I sent, I had no idea how to respond – for once I was out of words. I then decided to continue the conversation at my own peril, lack of sleep and discomfort. I appreciate the counseling, the praises and the credits.

In time, I hope you accept and respect my decision. It may feel that I wronged you immensely, and it may as well be true from where you’re stationed, but just remember, if I did not leave the string we held I would drag you into a quagmire of stuff you don’t deserve to be in.

In any case, if you need me desperately, I’ll be there. And I will remember you.

Thanking and wishing you well;
Funadrius

Author: Vishvaraj Chauhan

I read, I write. I slip and I slide. I live and I laugh. I love to listen to music, think about every thing that my brain thinks worthy of mentioning and take up a little too much load. But hey, that's why I'm here! The sage in a cage.

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