What am I supposed to do with the memories?


Tell me something. What happens to the big box of memories that people leave with you when they go? Why is it that the one who causes the pain in the first place gets to leave with simply a pouch of memories while you are left with a heavy suitcase and that too without wheels! Isn't it super hard to carry it along with you wherever you go?

I carry my suitcase everywhere- while I am bathing, while I walk towards the metro station, while I take the stairs to my office, while I am in a coffee shop. It is so god damn heavy. I am never without my big bag of memories. The ones that you left me. The one with which you have nothing to do. Sometimes it makes me wonder, if you were even there with me in that moment. Or was I simply imagining things. Were you really there? Or did you take pity on me because I was a damsel in distress in your eyes? Did you say yes to dropping me back home because you really did care about me or was it something you would have done for anybody? Am I a fool to believe that maybe, just maybe, I was special. Because I keep crying, every single day, asking myself, did I imagine you or were you for real? I can't separate my fantasy from reality anymore.

I am losing my mind. I pray to every god for you to miss me at least once. Just once. In a day. I desperately wish for something to remind you of me. It can be anything. Someone's weird laugh, someone wearing my shade of lipstick, someone whose perfume smells like mine, someone with my kinda hair. Anything at all. Something at least.

I make a wish. Every day. At 11:11. For you to miss me. For you to text me. For you to call. For you to reply to my mail. But I fail. I fail so miserably each day. Every day.

 I am desperate for a miracle. Just one word from you. So that I get a grip. I am not myself at all. I am a shadow of myself who is still looking for you in the darkness. Help me deal with this massive suitcase of memories that I am carrying  around with me everyday to work and back. It is killing me to have you with me when you want nothing to do with me.

I may have been reduced to a simple contact on your phone. A few digits define me now instead of my smile which was once your favourite. And I can't hold my heart out for anybody else to kick. You've kicked it way too hard this time. I feel like I truly have the broken heart syndrome.

Let me know if there is a way to split the memories. Take your share back please because they are dragging me down. It hurts physically to love you so much when I don't even exist in your world.

Right now as I type this, I pray that god hits erase. Erases you from my memory. Maybe that will help with all the excess baggage to be deleted. I don't want to remember your name, your birthday, the colour of your shirt or trousers, or how you mix a mithaai with the dal while you eat it, or how matar ki sabzi and arhar ki daal is your favourite dish or how you never flush after peeing or how you pray right after coming back from work or how you never waste food or how you make sure that I always have enough blanket on my side as well or how you warm my hands when you're cold too or how you never let me pay for food and always say time it will be my treat next time and that next time never comes or how you steal my popcorn during a movie or how drop me back home in the middle of the night when your home is 2 hours away or how you cuddle or how you make tea for me when you don't even know how to boil water or how you just believe in me when I don't or how you are so fucking confused between me and your ex or how you would never ever ever know what you really want.

I want you. I want all of you. Even if you don't want me. I love you but I am exhausted. You will never have what it takes to love a good woman. I'll always be your go to girl when life kicks you in the nuts. I am praying for the strength to not be your beck and call woman this time. Not this time. You lost a good one. I feel liberated now. I have no more words left to type. You sucked the love out of my heart and now it's just an empty room. Earlier there was a fireplace, a few good books, a nice cup of tea, a warm throw, a comfy chair. Now there is nothing. You stripped off the wooden floors and replaced it with tiles. The walls which were once a warm shade of orange are now so white. You took away every good thing in my heart and have replaced it with a nothingness so deep that no amount of sunshine can fill it. I am not upset. I am angry and hurt. Cause I am still trying to figure out, what did I learn out of this bullshit? Was there even an underlying lesson for me there? Did you learn something? Well even if you did, there is no way that you'd ever share it with me. So clearly I'd never know.

The girl with the big bag of memories,
Aaliyah


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