State of Emotions

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2 Comments
Zain.
Part 1

I woke up to the noise in my head. Thoughts were gushing in, scattered, and interrupting one another.  I checked my phone for the time. 4:50 am. I still had another four hours before college. Not that I attended classes anyway. I switched on my mobile data and checked if she’d left any message. Nope, nothing. There wasn't any message and I didn't leave any either.  I knew I should have, But I didn't. Like this, for most things in my life, I didn't know. The only thing I was sure of was my ambition. People called me over ambitious but I didn't see that as a bad thing. I was almost towards the end of my college life. My career was approaching but again, it seemed like a blurry picture too. My life was as messed up and cluttered as the thoughts in my head. 

We met virtually. It was amazing how easily we could converse and exchange thoughts. We shared a couple of similarities which is what brought us together, emotionally. We both loved tea and we both happened to like philosophy. We shared the same favourite colour and we also enjoyed talking about books. These were little things, but I figured it collectively had to mean something. We were compatible I thought and she was lovely. The one major thing that set us apart was our music. I was a metal head and she, a soft rock girl. I never showcased my emotional side and she, I sensed was probably an open book of emotions.  I didn't realize how a year had passed by so quickly. We’d been talking almost every day, connecting thoughts and building emotions but, we hadn't met yet and other realizations were built instead. I couldn't balance this anymore I thought. My ambitions were important. I didn't quite know how she could be so optimistic about us, I couldn't anymore. The distance was too much and my career was something I had to look forward to. I know I was hurting her, I know I was leaving her hanging but, like everything else, I didn't know.

Ira.
Part 1

I wasn't sure if I was over analysing everything.. Every word said. Every punctuation placed and every emotion expressed.

He said, “You have to be brave.” Friends say I've been too naive. People say you have to be strong. They say you should be indifferent. But, I wasn't. I wasn't exactly strong; I broke apart every time someone left. I was what they called ‘too attached’. I was emotionally attached to be precise. The fragments of my emotions depended on people. I couldn't be indifferent. I dwelled on little details. The one word he said. The one word he didn't say. The promises he left empty. The disappearance before he even appeared.

We were cities and miles apart, yet I gave away a piece of me. Just like that. Maybe I was too faithful. Maybe I was too optimistic. Once, in conversation and tales with a friend, she mentioned that, I am too optimistic and apparently, that wasn't a good thing. It was eerie to hear that. It wasn't because optimism wasn't exactly a negative thing but, because no one quite knew about the pessimistic thoughts I’d moored to the forsaken pier sides, deep within me. No one knew of the insecurities that were built inside.

Zain
Part 2

There has always been so much pressure around me. I was the oldest; I had my set of responsibilities that I had to perform. I had to make sure I matched up to people’s expectations and I had to make sure I did well to eventually get a good job and further work towards all those goals I had set for a long time now.  For boys, it’s always been like that. Our lives are structured in a way to make us drive and strive towards our goals and I'm not sure she understood that completely. I wanted to tell her to give it time and maybe destiny would bring us back together. She understood philosophy after all. Instead, I ran out of words. I let our conversation afloat and I knew exactly what this was doing to her. But, again. I didn't know. 

Ira
Part 2

I was in my room. My walls were painted red and black. There were quotes, lyrics, lights and photographs showcased by the black backdrop, while the red walls were shared with my exclusive bookshelf that held all my books, my companions as some called it.

I was just back from a tea-coffee evening with a friend. I was tired, not only because of the long day but, my thoughts tired me. Putting my head to rest, I thought to myself, maybe my friend was right. Maybe I was too optimistic in a way. Maybe this was because of the books we read, the movies we watched and the music we listened to. They shaped our perceptions, subconsciously. Maybe these perceptions brought in hope, optimism and expectations or maybe it was just the way I chose to be. I was a little too philosophical anyway.

Even though the forces of negativity pulled in thoughts that expected the worst, even though I broke a little every time someone hurt me or just left, I somehow learned to let go. Over the past, I had learned to pick up the pieces and move forward and find meaning within everything.  The pain and heartache always lingered, but the track had to stop. The music had to change and the next track would play.  This time I broke again. Someone had left, yet again.  For me, the tracks seemed so similar. However, the lyrics were different and the music tuned to a different rhythm but, the message, the emotion and the genre were almost, always the same.

Zain
Part 3

I am supposed to be studying, but instead, I spend some time reading online. I play a Three Days Grace track. They’re my favourite. Ira would say it’s noisy and that they don’t make sense. I would just tell her she didn't listen deep enough. Maybe like now. Things are a mess but I wonder if she can see beneath. I wonder if she can understand that maybe this is how things are supposed to be. Maybe we’ll find our way back to each other. Maybe we have to go towards our own directions and goals and eventually find each other. Maybe I'm thinking too much in philosophical terms but maybe she will understand. She understands philosophy after all.

Ira
Part 3

My speakers are on, Coldplay plays on.

When she was just a girl, she expected the world.. but it flew away from her reach ...and the bullets catch in her teeth..

Pause.

I am searching for that letter, the letter he first wrote to me. The only letter he wrote. Those were words that had lurked in hope. Those were the words that were supposed to mean something.  I’m flipping through pages. The pages are full of memories, photographs and dreams. Amidst a hundred pages, I find the blueprint to my dreams. My ambitions put together through magazine clippings, sketches and purple inked words. Concerts to visit, places left to travel, books to be read, stories waiting to be written, perceptions to be shaped, people waiting to be met. There is so much that lay ahead of me. There is so much I’d forgotten about amidst the pages I left behind.

I pull out the page and get up to pin it up on my board. I pick up one of my companions from my bookshelf. Thanks for the memories by Cecelia Ahern. I plug in my earphones and play.

Life goes on, it gets so heavy. The wheel breaks the butterfly..every tear, a waterfall, In the night.. the stormy night, she closed her eyes..In the night, the stormy night.. Away she'd fly..


About Post Author

Based in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia and Pune, India. I am a Communications Professional and Freelancer. Apart from writing and sipping on chai, I'm inclined towards a multitude of creative spheres, including literature, art, culture, social change and fashion.

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2 comments:

Amitoj said...

Well written, too many feeling at once. But very expressive. Super

April 27, 2014 at 2:37 PM
Huda Merchant said...

Thank you :')
It's meant to have the number of feelings :)

May 18, 2014 at 11:34 PM

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An advertising and media professional based in Bangalore, India and Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. I am the Founder & Community Head of Jeddah Reads,a project aimed at promoting an active reading culture in the region. Apart from writing and sipping on chai, I'm inclined towards a multitude of creative spheres, including literature, art, culture and social change communication.

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