The sky and weather brought us together.
The sky was angry, spitting sparks and rumbling roars. I had no particular inclination to go to tuition. I remember, I was the first one to start texting.
“You’re going to tuition?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“You see the lightning, man? What if we get fried?”
“I live on the 9th floor. Of course I can see the sky. It looks beautiful.”
Beautiful? I wondered. Thunder that would deafen, lightning that would blind. How was it attractive to him? Didn’t dangerous things scare people, didn’t out of control things make people run away from them? I shrugged and swung my bag onto my shoulders to go to tuition. But this time, a boy who found beauty in the most dangerous and unconventional of things would be waiting for me.
I remember texting with you, talking all day with you. “Look at the sky.” Three simple words strung together, to make both of us run – him to his 9th floor window, me to my terrace.
I should’ve kept in mind that he found beauty in odd places – he found beauty in an independent, diplomatic-yet-blunt, open-yet-opaque, empathetic-yet-disconnected girl like me.
You were the first to find beauty where I thought none existed, and you were the first one who showed me that I could have this kind of power over anyone.
That I – non-violent me – could liberate or destroy you by just being me.
“Look at the sky.”
“The clouds are in so many shades of white and grey. I wish I could paint them someday. They are beautiful.”
I loved you, I really did. Because you were the one who taught me how to love myself, you were the one who showed me how powerful I was. I could stop you from suicide, I could stop you from fights, and I could also make you better. And that scared me. Having so much power over you scared me – you, straightforward, abrasive, yet sweet and thoughtful you – it made me feel like it was unjust to have such power.
But baby, you were the one who saw beauty in lightning and thunder – and you could see the beauty in me.
And I also know you loved me, and you still do. And you have a corner of your broken, brave heart reserved just for me – the love you feel for me, the unavoidable anger and pain you feel for me. And darling though I tried my best to convince you that you never had, nor will have, a place in my heart for you – I do, I do.
Maybe it was because how you always saw through me, that you kept returning after every goodbye. Because maybe you hoped or knew that I wasn’t saying the truth when I said “I don’t want to talk to you anymore”, even though I did not know I was lying.
In an attempt to free myself of a power that might hurt you, I hurt you even more. That was so long ago – so much time has passed since I saw you face to face. But I know, if we do see each other again, we’d be transported back to the time when I entered tuition and your smile would be a continuation of the chat we just had awhile ago. Instantaneous time travel, even though Science doesn’t verify it yet.
And like how I will always want to talk to you, I hope that this recent goodbye is a real goodbye. For now I understand – baby, you don’t need me. You need someone like you, who would find the beauty in your brokenness and who would do all the things I was afraid to do.
I was scared, ultimately. I couldn’t find your beauty.
Find someone who appreciates and finds your beauty, find a girl who’d slap and kick and love and smile and kiss away your longing for me. Till then, we’d both look at the sky once in a while, both absentmindedly think – “Look at the sky”, and both deal with it when no one on the other side of the phone runs to the window or terrace, just to see what we are seeing.
And though it’s selfish, even after you find her, I hope you still look at the swirling columns of clouds, look at the mesmerizing splashes of colours once in a while – and be reminded of me. Because I would always be reminded of you.
The sky and weather brought us together.
I drove us apart.
But I hope in the deepest recesses of my mind, I hope someday both of us will look at the sky in different parts of the city, see the same thing, and smile thinking of our biggest ‘what if’.
This is an anonymous Guest post by a prolific writer who knows how to weave magic with words.
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