Death of a relationship

Firstly, I can’t take rejections, secondly, it stabs my heart to let go of people and then, if I am left to stay dumb… that’s a perfect recipe to whip me into a cryptic psychopath!

If I say that this is what I am going through right now; you must conclude that I have toppled over the barricade of my mental sanity already. I want to close myself inside a shell so deep that anyone standing right outside would play a deaf to my wails. I want the that to be so spirally bent that it echoes my screams back at me giving mine a company.

Even cancerous cells when operated upon to be knifed out of one’s body induce pain! Just why am I then being expected to take it all in my stride or deal with it without crying over it? For crying out loud, it’s a part of my life however rotten that may have been that I’m now taking out. If not anymore; once that was- as much as the newer things now. To me, it is like losing a relationship- and why the hell ‘like’, I am losing a relationship here. My father has been anything but that; but would that ever erase the affliction that I grew up without him? Or that I lost my mother too because of him when I was entitled to be cocooned inside the parental warmth? That my ex was worth nothing – is that a consolation to the fact that now I would be labeled as a divorcee? I would have embraced that too with pride if only I could ever live my status of being wedded in actuals.

Self- pity?

I am appalled! Why is it pinching anyone if I am according as much importance to a relationship- however dead n gone now? The hurt isn’t about losing him but losing a relationship. My mother to death, father to abandonment, uncle threw me away of his home, ditto with my ex and now this. I don’t have siblings, so now if I want to mourn upon losing even if a fatal relationship because that’s all I had; what is anybody’s business? I am talking about human relationships and not an expensive cellphone or a favorite pair of shoes damaged; but that’s more important I guess. Given the fact that I had no one by the age of seventeen; wouldn’t I have poured all my affection over this relationship?

Why is it being so difficult for people to understand that when we mourn upon a person’s death; it’s crying over a multi-folded loss- of that of a human, a defined relationship, that special extra- bonding, years of knowing each other, associated memories, time of your life, number of years… then what is so different here?

I am growing tired of keeping that ever smiling face up when all I’m doing is hiding my tears away. I know it’s not right to crash my tears upon anyone; so here, I’m going quiet again. I would want to be left alone and I can’t foresee for how long I want that to be. That is precisely why I don’t share my things with people. Stay over only if you would let me cry my heart out, because that’s all I’m doing for now. One I’m already wrecked, then I live the pain all over by narrating that to someone and every time I meet him/her, I know he/she knows my story- so no matter what, the past keeps gripping at me even when I’m introduced to newer people. Please don’t forget, there are no guarantees that the person I shared my things with did not misjudge.

[EDIT- I have still few of them chatting on my FB window asking me to patch up! This is after I’ve shared all the dirt with them. My mistake that I shared with casual bunch of people who I met only the very day. She was so interested and inquisitive about him- all the signs were there. How many times would I give people some chance? So much for sharing bit!!]

What losses I have suffered would give out as much dirt that my whole blog might stink.

My youth, prime years, my twenties, my ambitions, my dreams, my aspirations, my longing for a happily ever after- that fairy tale I wove was a huge one. It is still falling apart- brick by brick scratching a part of my state of being too- creating a wound that I doubt would ever heal. I dare anyone who would ever want to step up to revive this label for me. How much hard- work he would have to do to make me smile. It’s easy to draw on a clean canvas; mine is smeared with dirt. However squeaky you may go, it won’t go white again, and some mark would keep showing or else the paper would get damaged. The only way to cover those ugly tell-tale stains would be to paint bright, stroke by stroke smearing color all over so no mark shows ever…

For now, I’m covered with blisters, bruises and bleeding wounds. I failed to build or maintain or save the last of the relationships of my life till now. It isn’t about him; it’s about me. I am affected and huge. It was my relationship too. Just because he was “a misfit” or whatever the term maybe, isn’t any saving grace to the fact that I am losing the last of my relationships!