IT’S COMPLICATED

Let us get this straight first, I’m not the simpleton I wish I were. I’m not going to come right up to you and speak my heart out. Because that way, I’ll never know what you’d have done if you hadn’t known. That’s the thing about being the first one to express. I’ll always doubt, whether you said ‘yes’ because you wanted to, or because you had to. If you lie just to keep me from hurting, you’d end up doing exactly that.
And if you say ‘no’, I’ll have to stop dreaming about ‘us’. And even though it has all been in my head, it has always felt real to me (ask Dumbledore, he’ll tell you). I know I sound like a psycho, saying that. But this side of me too, you should see. Afterall, you should know what you are signing up for.

So of course, I’ll resort to these unbelievably inefficient methods to show you my feelings. Like writing this letter. Wishing you’ll understand that it’s addressed to you. Knowing, even if you do, it’s not going to help you make up your mind. I’ve tried my best to keep it somewhere exactly between too subtle and too conspicuous. Just the right amount of directive… and confusing.
Confusing, because I don’t know if I want to live the rest of my life with you, or go back to being strangers again. A part of me wants to cling on to the tiny possibility of ‘happily ever after’ while another wants to let go.
Painfully aware of the fall, I sometimes feel like spreading arms and closing eyes and enjoying the wind while I’m at it. The other times, I’m cursing my stupidity for letting you tip me over, knowing the reality is waiting below, to greet me with a teeth-clattering landing.
So why should I be the only one tormented with these jumbled up emotions? You can look at this as my sweet little revenge for all the wreck you’ve left in your wake in my previously sorted out life.

Honestly though, how come you are so blissfully oblivious? Why haven’t you picked up on all the clues? Haven’t they been evident enough? Do you really think I’m the same way with everyone else? That you are no special?

Remember all those times I’ve smiled at you across the hallway and waved? Waited for you for hours at the cafe, without complaining once? All this, when I’m the kind of person who never risks coming across as needy.
Being terrible at small talk, you should know how hard it is for me to come up to you and say all those foolish things that I say as conversation starters.
I never text first. Definitely not more than 2 times in a row. Now, go through our chat and see the endless times I’ve sent you the first ‘Hey’.
Always needing reciprocation, I’d thought myself to be too proud to give one-sided efforts. But I’m so used to going out of my usual ways for you by now… if you message me, I’ll still text back within the blink of an eye.
Go ask my friends, they’ll tell you, I’m the worst replier ever.

Still have doubts? Only if you’d have cared to look close enough, you’d have seen those unexplained chilly goosebumps on my arms when I’m near you. And that, my dear, doesn’t happen around everyone else. Definitely not in this hot-humid weather.

I’m not going to mention your coal black eyes or funny little nose (Ignore the fact that I just did). Because your perfect looks was not the thing I fell for. There are hundreds of flawless faces around me, and I’m not writing such letters to each of them.
And no, not everyone gets a personalized gift on their birthday, and I don’t offer the last of my chips to people just like that. Yes, I greet everyone with a smile, but my face doesn’t always light up a shade brighter, as it does at your sight.
I’ve opened up to you, more than I’ve to anyone else. And nope, I don’t spend hours talking about the silly, irrelevant details of my life with random people.

I know I don’t exactly wear my heart on my sleeve. Rather, I deliberately try to act super-unfazed and cool when with you.
But all those days I’ve gone without talking to you… don’t think, I’ve gone without thinking about you. I’ve gone to sleep with and woken up to the memory of you. And not a single day has passed without me replaying your crinkly-eyed laughter in my head, again and again.
You’ve made me cry at nights, quiet tears racing down my face uncontrollably. A privilege, only a few novels could brag of having, till now.
I didn’t know this was possible. But I even love the shape of your name. Like the way it has perfect lines and curves. And I can keep staring at it long enough for people to question my sanity.
I just don’t show these things openly, because if I show the real extent of excitement I feel on meeting you every time… one, you’ll be creeped out. And two, everyone else would know my supposedly private emotions, probably even before your dumb brain takes notice of them.

Real funny thing is, stopping whatever this is, is not in my hands. It doesn’t have an on-off switch. Didn’t know, losing self-control could feel so helpless yet so sweet.
You see, I’m still reluctant to call this ‘love’. Because this doesn’t fit into any definition of it I’ve been taught. Maybe that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. Different for everyone.

Sometimes I get so frustrated with your reservedness, I feel like giving up on making you open up. Leave alone asking you my role in your life, I sometimes doubt, if I have one at all. Hell, I’m not even sure if I’m your friend or not. Because the way you casually put your hand on your friends’ shoulder while walking… you’ve never done that to me. And I know it shouldn’t, but it really bothers me.
Then again, just when I decide to forget you and regain my feet, you do these things that throw me utterly off balance.
I mean, what was that calling me to have chai on your favourite tapri about? That too at 6 a.m.? Do you know, no one alive can claim to have woken me up at that ungodly hour? Not because no one has. But because I said ‘alive’.
And what about all those times you send me your handwritten poems? And call me at midnight to go on night drives on a whim? Night drives on which you don’t say a word, but play all my favourite songs and get me my favourite sandwich nonetheless? And why bring me that souvenir from foreign trip when apparently you don’t even care enough to call me on my birthday? What kind of mixed signals are these?
Like really, draw a graph. With people on the X axis and their place in your life on Y. And show me where do I fall.

See, even if you decide to finally come out of your cozy cocoon and announce your final judgement, and even if it turns out to be in my favour, there is hardly any chance of us ending up together. You know, why I say this. And sometimes I console myself, maybe that is why you feign ignorance. Thinking, it will drive me away. And it almost works. I have tried to end this self inflicted torture so many times… and have failed just as many. Coming back to ground zero, and going through it all over again. I know, stopping here and now is the only wise thing to do. But you’ve washed out all the logic I had in me. And wise is the last thing I am right now.
I know, letting go will free me.
It’s wierd how you’ve succeeded in making freedom look worse than these shackles of hope and despair interwoven.

You know what I fear the most? Confirmation of the futility of all my efforts.
Midway through a book or a movie, I have a knack of sensing impending doom. Once I do, I can never make myself make it till the end. I think, that’s exactly why I’m so eager to keep us on hold. To savour the unrealistic daydreaming.
I could never stand sad endings. And I sure don’t want to live one.

But hey, don’t let all this affect you. You can still pretend that you didn’t read, or better, understand this. Rest assured, I wouldn’t go all Devdaas over your loss. That’s the most beautiful thing. How can I lose something that was never mine to begin with?
And don’t you bother to worry about my mental stability. This letter definitely makes me look like I’m on the brink of losing it. But believe me, I’ll be just fine. I can always carry on with life like nothing happened. Keep smiling, keep joking and making light of everything. And nobody ever knows the difference.
Hiding sentiments is my forte. Because faking happiness is so easy than baring your vulnerabilities and having to explain them. My coping game is pretty strong that way. And anyway, I’m not the kind who’ll succumb to depression. I can’t be sad for too long. Because that too, gets boring. For me, everything does, after a time.
The only exception being you.

And who knows, I might find someone who’ll almost make me forget you. There might come new characters in future, with an altogether different plot.
But it won’t change the fact that our story was ended before it had a chance to commence into the greatest movie possible. Something that could have been avoided, had I been brave enough to step out from behind my mobile screen to confront you in person.
And try as they may, no one will be able to fill in the void you’d leave in my heart. Maybe that’s why I said ‘almost’.

This uncertainty is exactly why I’m adamant to wait on this side of the shore. In hopes that you are doing the same, on the other.
The day threatens to come closer and closer when I’ll finally get tired of waiting and turn around and walk away.
Maybe I should. You should too.
God knows, I’m hoping, if we keep walking away from each other, we might meet on the opposite side of the equator.