Wednesday 1 April 2015

The unbearable pains of unrequited love

I don't think there is absolutely anything in the world that hurts more than unrequited love. And I have seen those Nat Geo documentaries about the bullet ants. The funny thing is, I can't even blame a silly ant for the pain. No one other than myself to put the blame on. She could have made it clear in class 9th that she was in a relation with someone else, a tall footballer with a good sense of humor and presence of mind. Most girls, in their right mind, would have gone for him if it came to a choice. Even if I was the more attractive guy, it was her choice anyways. Can't blame someone for making a choice, can we? It was me who was stupid enough to keep ignoring all the "rumors" that kept floating around, about her relationship. I just didn't want to believe that that could be true. Every time a classmate teased her about that guy, or the other way around, my red blood cell count dipped a little.

Still, I stayed away from that notion as long as I could. Till one day, in class 10th, she admitted it herself. Now I would laugh at someone if they said they were in love even before they were 16, but the fact that I still can't get over her, even after 5 years of knowing that she is in a serious relation with someone else, would probably stop me from doing that.

What wouldn't I do just to see her one last time.

If only Inception was real

In my school days, I often wondered how life would be post-school. Not getting to see her for days. I don't need to wonder about that, these days. Not since the last 3 years.

The first time I saw her, in 8th standard, I had just got admission in this new school. Since the time I knew about my feelings for her, a countdown had started in my mind. A countdown of the number of days I could still go to the school and see her. And to imagine that that 5 year countdown ended three years ago. I won't lie and say that I remember her every day of my life even now. Days go around just fine. It's the nights that I wait for everyday. For dreams are the only place I can still meet her. It's almost a daily ritual to lie down in bed, thinking about her, and those school days. I read somewhere that we dream about things that are lurking in our mind. That does work sometimes. These days, even my subconscious mind knows that the dream isn't real. Almost all the times, even in my dream, I know that none of what I am seeing is real. That she won't be there when I wake up. It's a fresh heartbreak every time I wake up from such a dream, still, I savor the time I spend with her. If Inception (the movie) was real, I would love to be stuck in a third level dream, with her, of course.

Actually, this blog started as a result of one such dream I had earlier today. I don't know whom I want to read all this, but I sure feel like writing about it.

The sweetest memories of my life

29th March, 2012. Class 12th Ph.E. exam. I had a fair idea that day that it will be long before I get to have another glance at her. So (though I don't vividly remember), I looked at her whenever I had the chance. Trying to save her image somewhere in my mind. We weren't on talking terms since about an year, if not more, so there wasn't any chance that I could pass her a smile and get one in return. After the exam ended, the only thing I was searching for, while talking to my friends about how easy and lengthy the exam was, was her friend group. Funny how I don't even remember whether I was able to see her after the exam. I just wish I was at least writing a personal diary at that time. Would have been great to dive into those memories, which are now just a blur.

Today, it's been over 3 years and 3 days, and I still haven't seen her again. I don't know whether I will, in my lifetime. Not that she lives too far away from my home - just 5-6 kms. And of the 100 new strangers that I see daily for the last 1000 days, she wasn't among them. That's what she has been to me like - a stranger, ever since we stopped talking in the school days. That she used to write down the homework in my school diary almost everyday in 10th seems like a dream now. Even rarer sounds the fact that her desk used to behind mine everyday back then, though that was due to our lovely class-teacher who arranged the seats that way. The day those seats were arranged like that is among my best memories at school, of her or otherwise. My heart beat must have matched, if not surpassed,  that of an athlete just completing a 100 meter sprint. I knew I was in for memories that I shall preserve for life. The sole reason that class 10th has been, and will always be, the best year of my school or college life. Or that I didn't take a single holiday back then.