Writers Jam

Stuck in a catatonic state, I barely lift a single finger to help myself. I saw this coming from a mile away but I’m still blown away by the sheer predictability of it all.

This couldn’t have survived anyhow. Our needs too different; Our expressions too alien; Our languages mutually unintelligible. No matter how hard we tried to speak each other into existence into our lives, there remains a chasm uncrossable and all-consuming. I wish, selfishly, that we had more memories and time together, that he can hold close on days he feels like he betrayed possibilities. I also wish, cruelly, that he is left tormented by all the little things I’ve left him behind with.

I wish love were easy. I wish we loved in a world with pre-destined soulmates we could find easily. Two factory-made puzzle pieces slotting together in each other’s life without friction. A space and niche carved inside me before I could even piece myself together to figure out what it was for.

I feel like the older I turn, the more I beg at the door of the universe to be loved. I lesser I believe in my attempts but it’s the thought that counts. I throw myself at the feet of Fate, stain her robes with my snot and tears. I embarass myself in front of her just to prove a point. I dance and shout and wave my hands in front of her face, to let her know that I’m still there despite, despite, despite. I loudly bring her my latest exploits like a homebred cat to show her that I’m worthy of being loved. Diminishing returns.

I couldn’t wish for another timing, another life, another universe with him because the stars that made us were fundamentally opposed like that. I would’ve never stopped craving, yearning, begging; Him, never yielding, complicit, or consumed in me. I shouldn’t cry at something that was inevitable and in the very nature of things but the feeling of a future being ripped away out of my hands is inhumane.

There goes another fig, falling plop at my feet, smattering my shoes with the seeds of a life, that gave my dreams much comfort this past year. Another possibility reduced to a nil probability. Another failed variable in my inexhausting experiment. Another datapoint in my excel sheet.