It's been close to three weeks now...or so I would like to think. I am trying to pile on fictitious days since the last conversation. So much for cliches. They say time heals everything. I wonder if time can take care of yet another,yet again.... And while some say 'it's no big deal. Just give yourself 6 months. After all it was just 3 months". 6, 3.....how do weeks, months or years count as less significant for what you've felt for someone you shared your weekends with, the lows of your life back in a city that barely let you be, down pitchers of beer at your favourite pub, listen to the soft gurgling of the waves at PDP while the moon came up and shone down upon you two...mumbling on a port wine high.....or your best New Year first day..not the eve...the first day
I smile at people as much as I can. I always have and it's my defense mechanism to remind myself there are things to be happy about. Mom always has something very profound to say when she suspects something is amiss, even all these miles apart. "Happiness is a state of mind". But these days, I am barely concerned with being happy. I just want to be hopeful, believe that yet another 'let's end it and move on' is not something I will hear again. I seem to have adapted to a robotic like survival mechanism. Hear it all out, calmly ask reasons, ignore the brain which is screaming out all the things you really want to say before it's too late, before the other person begins the process of forgetting you, in bits and pieces, until you are a specter of an idea.
You on the other end, you are looking out at everything new and delightful, wishing to share all of it with someone half way across the globe and you take your steps further, a little by little, wondering why it could not be closer to what it could have been.....
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