W came into my life when I already had my haves. Long, old haves who I knew and loved in a comfortable tee way that only everyone understood. So when she walked in, she wasnt needed. Most definitely not wanted or desired. And certainly not the have I thought would be the must have.
But she was. In every wonder-years way. She laughed when I laughed. Cried when I cried. And all my years with her, and everything that happened in them, had something to do, irrevocably, unexplainably, with (and to) gorgeous her.
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Dear W,
Have you read Shantaram? Its a book that talks of my city by the sea. It talks of the mafia and of loss and of a million things that take a man to a journey that breaks and then makes him. But more than all of that, its a book about love. And how, sadly, truly, its the core of everything that we do and dont do with our lives.
I dont know if I agree with giving love that much credit (I dont know if I can give anything that much credit) but i think that there is always something about giving something (anything) a piece of your heart that makes a bit of you stay there in return. and then, no matter what you do after or where you go. it stays. with that person (if you are lucky) or with that bit of that person that you hold in your heart.
And each time that person hurts you. Or time and distance makes that person (and you, in all fairness) change (in ways that make that person become less and less familiar), you find yourself wondering why you cannot just unlove them. Why it is so hard for you to step back and recognise what the head states clearly and the heart knows. Why you cannot see them for what they are - as new people who dont (and cannot) hold the love you have for them.
I have thought that with everyone I have loved. I have asked myself why people change. And why, when only one of us change, its so so so hard to just accept that and let go. And I have found answers in simply letting go most times. There have been friends and lovers that I have loved and lost. And I have seen (or learnt to see) reason in it. Peace, even.
And then there are some loves that you cannot let go. That you continue to hold in your head and your heart. That are tied to every breath you take. That are part of every sad tear you shed in your soul. There are some loves that you have given more than just your love to. The loves that dont give you peace in letting go. Even when you know that there is nothing to let go. Even when you know that they are gone. Even when you know that there is only hurt in holding on. Even when you know all of this. And that love tears at your heart and holds you captive. And burns you and makes you and breaks you all at once, you cannot let it go. You cannot step back and see it walk too far.
With these loves, sometimes the intensity of this desire is faltering. Sometimes, you want them and need them and love them and completely need to know everything about them at all times. Sometimes, you do without the details, hold them in your heart, share silences and cold bodies, speak uninanities and lie low. Sometimes you hold them in the middle of a granite room at summer's peak and need to hold them longer. Sometimes its enough if you share a thought. a silent word on hot sand. Sometimes you need more than a song from the past sung out of tune.
I dont know where I am going with this. And I dont know if i really have the courage to go anywhere with this. We have been in the lie low phase for too long now for me to be able to snap back and write much more. But you need to know that even when I am mad at you. Even when I think its so so so damned sad that we have locked each other out. Even when I know that there are other souls that you share and love (perhaps more than me, as i see it in my current insecurity). Even when I know that I should let you be. Even when I search for you when you are not there. Even as every single thing that we do and dont do add up to this large, large, almost invisible but very very real elephant in our midst. Even in all of those completely frustrating, completely soul scarring times, I love you.
I love every bit of you. In a way that scares, soothes and saves me. I love you with a heart that expands with every small thing you do when you are there. and love you with a desire that bloats and gloats in insane proportions, threatening often to undo me, when you are not. I try not interfering. I try unconditional. I try everything that allows me to be whoever it is you need me to be to be able to love you as I do. But every single time, I find myself not loving enough. Falling short. Almost always seeming different when I come out of it in front of you. It seems to me that the way I feel about you, that deliciously precious way that holds me captive, is not one you understand or even allow yourself to recognise.
For that, I try not loving you. I try hating everything that makes you that way, because clearly the love i feel for you disallows me the ability to hate you. But yet, as much as I try, I still love you. still need you to define me and my capacity to feel such intensity so constantly, by just being. still somehow, need to know that you are there, even if only to break my heart.
You know my subscribed reasoning to the 12 people in our lives. Well, you were the least disguised of my 12 people. And for that, I will always be grateful. To you. and Fate, that road that I so thankfully allowed to have me led to you.
So know this. You have my heart. Yes, even when it hurts that you cannot see it.
Me.
Six beautiful summers after I found you. and your words.
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