This one's for people, places and things that I chose to walk away from because I loved them so much. I'm sure we can all think of someone or something - an ideal, an institution, a dream, a hope, anything - that we loved so much, it hurt.
It's strange, frightening and funny what that kind of passion can do to you. I have found myself alternately envying and feeling sorry for those who've never been what we casually refer to as "absolutely crazy" about something or someone. I envy them their equanimity, their peace of mind, and their (relatively) happy, uncomplicated lives. I'm still not sure if that's a disposition one is born with, or chooses to cultivate, or a bit of both. Whatever it is, it makes for a remarkably even, content existence. Loving so much that it hurts, on the other hand, can do just that - hurt.
Yet, as someone who belongs to the latter category, I wouldn't trade my madness for anything...and I doubt that there's anyone who would. Because it hurts alright, it is elusive and frustrating and maddening and beautiful and destructive and blinding and wonderful, it is everything and nothing - but, more often than not, it is all one has. It is all I have, at any rate. I ought not to be presumptuous, so I will speak for myself.
So there's this one idea, one dream that I've nurtured since I was ten. There's this one institution I believe very firmly in, there's another that I'd give anything to be a part of. There are people that matter like nobody else does. And while some of these I must necessarily wait to reach, there are others I have deliberately chosen to step back from - not in spite of how much I love them, but because I love them so much.
I'm still trying to figure out if I do this in an attempt to keep relationships, impressions and memories untarnished, or because I couldn't possibly love them more. Truth be told, I think it is the former. The pragmatic part of me cynically wants to know if I'm so insecure about what I love as to skirt any risk to its perfection. Were I to be defensive, I'd respond to that with a "Bull***t!". Years have passed since I recognised and acknowledged the attachment, however, so there's a reasonable amount of (what I hope is) maturity, too. And I know why I chose to walk away: Because I had to, and because I will come back one day, but must leave it be for now.
Does that make sense?
Yeah, not to me either :)
In a warped, roundabout way, it is logical, though. I can't hang around. Ergo, I must leave. That doesn't mean that the passion is any lesser. It just means that even when I have every opportunity to visit, to claim a place as my own, I won't. Not any more, if I can help it. Because I love it. It means that I may have been waiting forever for one more glimpse, one opportunity - but will pass it up when it comes my way. Why? Because, if I must leave in spite of how much and how truly I loved, then I must indeed leave - for now, at least. More often than not, though, one leaves because one loves, even when there isn't the slightest hope that there will be a second time. It hurts like hell...and while those who wonder aloud why you're walking away don't matter, they don't help matters either. They don't understand - you're the only person who'll ever know that there was nothing to do, but this.
And then there are the ideals or that one dream that one would die for. I've met people who live seemingly perfect, hassle-free lives. Nothing is a must, so everything is a bonus. That's one approach to life, like I mentioned earlier. I once had a roommate who didn't understand why I was crazy about a particular something. She told me to take it easy - that life would be a lot happier that way, and that I would spend fewer nights reading feverishly, and subject her to fewer mood swings. I tried - not that there was any point even in trying, I realised later :) - and then took to counting up to ten before saying anything, and reading in the living room instead of in ours. Thankfully, it helped :)
But the single-minded obsession refuses to go. Not that I want it to. It keeps me going. When I have nobody and nothing else to fall back on, it is the one thing I can still count on to give me a much-needed push in the right direction. When everything else fades away and I'm alone, I know there's one reason. That there will always be one reason. And there will always be the love that hurts.
It's strange, frightening and funny what that kind of passion can do to you. I have found myself alternately envying and feeling sorry for those who've never been what we casually refer to as "absolutely crazy" about something or someone. I envy them their equanimity, their peace of mind, and their (relatively) happy, uncomplicated lives. I'm still not sure if that's a disposition one is born with, or chooses to cultivate, or a bit of both. Whatever it is, it makes for a remarkably even, content existence. Loving so much that it hurts, on the other hand, can do just that - hurt.
Yet, as someone who belongs to the latter category, I wouldn't trade my madness for anything...and I doubt that there's anyone who would. Because it hurts alright, it is elusive and frustrating and maddening and beautiful and destructive and blinding and wonderful, it is everything and nothing - but, more often than not, it is all one has. It is all I have, at any rate. I ought not to be presumptuous, so I will speak for myself.
So there's this one idea, one dream that I've nurtured since I was ten. There's this one institution I believe very firmly in, there's another that I'd give anything to be a part of. There are people that matter like nobody else does. And while some of these I must necessarily wait to reach, there are others I have deliberately chosen to step back from - not in spite of how much I love them, but because I love them so much.
I'm still trying to figure out if I do this in an attempt to keep relationships, impressions and memories untarnished, or because I couldn't possibly love them more. Truth be told, I think it is the former. The pragmatic part of me cynically wants to know if I'm so insecure about what I love as to skirt any risk to its perfection. Were I to be defensive, I'd respond to that with a "Bull***t!". Years have passed since I recognised and acknowledged the attachment, however, so there's a reasonable amount of (what I hope is) maturity, too. And I know why I chose to walk away: Because I had to, and because I will come back one day, but must leave it be for now.
Does that make sense?
Yeah, not to me either :)
In a warped, roundabout way, it is logical, though. I can't hang around. Ergo, I must leave. That doesn't mean that the passion is any lesser. It just means that even when I have every opportunity to visit, to claim a place as my own, I won't. Not any more, if I can help it. Because I love it. It means that I may have been waiting forever for one more glimpse, one opportunity - but will pass it up when it comes my way. Why? Because, if I must leave in spite of how much and how truly I loved, then I must indeed leave - for now, at least. More often than not, though, one leaves because one loves, even when there isn't the slightest hope that there will be a second time. It hurts like hell...and while those who wonder aloud why you're walking away don't matter, they don't help matters either. They don't understand - you're the only person who'll ever know that there was nothing to do, but this.
And then there are the ideals or that one dream that one would die for. I've met people who live seemingly perfect, hassle-free lives. Nothing is a must, so everything is a bonus. That's one approach to life, like I mentioned earlier. I once had a roommate who didn't understand why I was crazy about a particular something. She told me to take it easy - that life would be a lot happier that way, and that I would spend fewer nights reading feverishly, and subject her to fewer mood swings. I tried - not that there was any point even in trying, I realised later :) - and then took to counting up to ten before saying anything, and reading in the living room instead of in ours. Thankfully, it helped :)
But the single-minded obsession refuses to go. Not that I want it to. It keeps me going. When I have nobody and nothing else to fall back on, it is the one thing I can still count on to give me a much-needed push in the right direction. When everything else fades away and I'm alone, I know there's one reason. That there will always be one reason. And there will always be the love that hurts.
7 comments:
I read this post in the morning at 10am and now its 10pm..I decided this post needed more than just one read. I have felt the same many times before towards people, places and mostly memories - but the first cut was always the deepest. I have wondered - can you ever love some one/thing enough ? Its not exactly quantifying. Too much love? or is it just masking your own insecurity? what kind of love is it that doesn't hurt?
Questions that my mind often conjures up when I am all alone in the lab. It scares me- have I turned insane even before launching on my graduate career.
I have this fridge magnet back at home, its a tall giraffe, that says- dont try to understand me, just love me. I wish life were as simple.
Yes, that's exactly what I wonder too - what kind of love is it that doesn't hurt? Then again, when we know it does, why love at all? But then, that kind of cut-and-dried logic just doesn't work with some things...some things just happen, I guess. And for some things and people in life at least, I guess, there's just never too much love...don't let the pondering scare you. If there's anyone who should be fearing insanity, it is people who are afraid of exploring the territory at all. Imagine leaving one part of yourself untouched, unexplored, all your life! That would be a sad life to lead...we're much better off! :)
Maybe I should try looking for one of those fridge magnets...that giraffe does sound very lovable :)
thanks its very comforting to know that someone out there shares my insanity.
I dont think there was ever a choice between loving and not loving. As tacky as it sounds, I think the heart has a mind of its own :) I have always found those who are hesitant to love, very miserable. I had this in mind when I wrote that post on the mending wall.
I apologize for writing such long comments ! Its as if I am writing a new blog everytime I comment on yours !
Btw my name is sharanya. I know yours, so I thought its fair that it goes both ways :) I risk sounding redundant but I am glad I chanced across your blog. I am even more glad, that I am not curious to know more than what you have shared about yourself through this blog. I have never had pen-pals you know..I thought it was something that strictly existed in books and the movies haha. Although it would be ideal if I could write you letters, I love writing letters, but I have never written one after leaving India. I shall blame Time.
Haven't written a letter myself in years...but I like my new (and first ever) pen pal :) I'm glad we got talking...as for getting to know people, I personally feel a blog serves far better as an introduction than a conventional acquaintance ever would. And when you read a blog by someone you know already, you get to dicsover new layers each time, or rediscover the ones you already knew about :)
"The heart has a mind of its own" - lovely way to put it!
And I hope you won't apologise for the length of your comments again...there's nothing to apologise about! :)
I guess its because, people reveal their true selves in a blog. After all, there's no one to impress or fear from. And I believe that at their core, everyone is the same, our dreams, aspirations, our insecurities (after stripping off the pride, ego etc). So its not surprising that I understand you and vice versa.
Precisely what I think...you've put it very succintly :) When people say "Oh, I can't write. I can write nothing at all", I want to shake them by their shoulders and say, TRY, at least! Because I think every human being, by virtue of being human, has at least one good story in him.
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