Torn And Tattered

I caught my dress on a barbed wire while walking in the woods today. I tried to pull it away forcefully and the fabric tore with a shrill sound. I couldn’t breathe for a moment and then I walked back to the wooden post that held the nasty fence. I knelt in the tall, grassy knoll and tried to disentangle my hem. I gently picked up threads from the torn piece and one by one moved them to and fro to help me extricate my clothes. After five minutes of patiently removing my garb from the wire, my finger accidentally got pricked by the rusty thorns. Scarlet blood oozed all over my hand and the milky white fabric. I stood up suddenly and realized that I had sprained my calf muscles in this endeavor. With a sharp, whizzing sound another piece of my dress was ripped. In that one moment, even though I had destroyed my favorite outfit, all I wanted to do was to control the damage and walk away. I knew that the harm was done already and I was merely picking up the pieces. With one swift move I yanked my clothes off the fence and walked away. Tiny, tattered pieces of white fabric fluttered in the morning breeze as I limped back home. They will always remind me of what I lost and the pieces will only wither away with time.

I thought of you today and missed you intensely. For the first time, I realized that like barbed wire some people have already broken us in a million ways. The best way to salvage what is left is to forcefully remove them from our lives in one swift motion. Unless we want to end up more hurt than before, speed is necessary. Usually friends and family try to be the peace makers. Everyone who doesn’t really care about you tells you that misunderstandings and hurt are part of the deal called marriage and relationships. They try to give you the other person’s perspective. You want to explain everything that went wrong to your own self before you start telling others. But there are so many muddled memories and a frivolous part of you keeps waiting for a miracle. Things that make no sense in the first place cease to have any meaning at all when everyone in a thirty mile radius makes it his duty to advise you on your private affairs. People, who do not even know a fraction of the truth, fabricate such elaborate lies out of every word you say and every gesture that at one point you just stop confronting them with the truth. You can just tell by the way they stop talking among themselves as soon as they see you, that you are the flavor of the month’s gossip. The worst are the ones who love you unconditionally and immensely. They hold such pity for your condition that they happily demonize your beloved and burn the effigy with pride and devotion.

But that is only one facet of the nightmare of breakup. The highlight is what your heart and mind do to you. Your mental faculties work at a hundred percent and analyze every word said, text-ed or emailed. The way he smiled when you talked about your future seems to be a nasty, villainous smirk. The look in his eyes when he first confessed of his love is deciphered as malevolent greed. The first flower he picked for you, the one you have tucked safely in your poetry journal, seems to be a cheap cliche. The photographs that you adored with all of your heart are stowed away never to be seen again; just because you don’t have the courage to see them for one last time and burn them to ashes. Everything that made your heart flutter seems to be an act of preplanned deception. Everyone agrees with your analysis and swears on their grandmother’s grave that they always thought something was off about this guy. Your mind gets clouded by the relentless opinions, hatred and decisions and you are just numb to whatever is happening to your life. Somewhere in all this humdrum, you keep your fingers crossed and pray like you did as a child with your eyes tightly shut and your heart caving in. Please God, save my dream from complete annihilation. Just perform one little miracle for me and make him as heartbroken and lost without me, as I am without him.

When all the shenanigans pass, the deafening crowd scatters and you lie in bed waiting for sleep that never comes the actual pain is revealed. You realize that your heart is sinking to the bottom of the ocean and the tears never cease. Your pillow is damp and your eyes are sore from insomnia and incessant crying. A tiny voice inside your head asks you innocently what went wrong and how could we have done it differently. How could the world of our dreams just fall apart without any chivalrous attempt of salvaging it from the both of us? One wonders how graciously we have catered relationship advice to others but when it boiled down to our own life, the river of wisdom ran dry. And a part of your heart just knows that you will love his smile, the look in his eyes and that first crimson rose as long as you live, maybe even after death. All the collective wisdom of the world cannot convince your silly heart not to mourn the loss of a fairytale; one you grew up believing so ardently that it never occurred to you that it would not end happily ever after. Long after your lives have gone separate ways, somewhere along the road a tiny remnant of a distant dream will make you cry. You will remember the white fabric fluttering in the wind stained with your blood, forever mourning the heartbreak of loving someone who loved you not.