Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Incomplete conversations

Its been sometime since we last spoke. Since we last shared every little detail that makes no sense to the world but us. Since the time I told you I had bad food. Since the time I got sounded off with a warning for doing so. Its been a while since you last told me about you finally settling down in office.
I haven't bored you with football talk in the longest time. Neither have you pretended that you don't mind it.
Its been a while since you're no longer part of my life.

Wading through each day I think of things I want to tell you. Just you. No one else would get it. No one else would get me. My idiosyncrasies have a full access permit to your mind and heart. Every little detail about me finds itself in a remote corner in my mind, neatly packed, never to be opened again. So many times I've dialed your number, only to cut it before the bell goes. I hate myself for wanting to speak to you, when I clearly said I don't want to. I hate the urge to tell you every good and bad moment that passes me by.
I wanted to tell you that I climbed the highest peak in Maharashtra. That it felt good. That I couldn't feel my legs for the next two days. I thought you would like to know that I try and go for a run every 3 days or so. That I found a group who is accommodating enough to let a dilliwala play football with them.
But is it just me? I wonder if you you want to dump on me all those unsaid moments that probably were itching to be released. I wonder if those unsaid moments have found a new set of ears. If you have, I wonder if those ears are as genuine. I wonder of you still watch Gilmore Girls when you need a smile. I wonder if that nose pin still hurts. I wonder if you ever tried to reach out in one sudden burst of emotion, but restrained. Do you still wrap the tea bag around the spoon to squeeze every little drop? Do you look at the milk pot next to it and think of me? Can you pass a single day without once wanting to tell me how it was?

I don't know the answers, but I know you know me. You know me like no one else does. And I know you more than you think I do. But what we both know is the fact that we can't talk anymore. For we know each other too well.

7 comments:

vimsical said...

There are no incomplete conversations. We talked it over. And out! What we had was something very beautiful. And it was good till it lasted, but i hate to tell you that it's over.

Shubzi said...

it takes a lot of courage to write a post like this, hope you are well

lots of love
shubzi

Trying to be sentient! said...

why dirty your blog with this? do what you want to do, the way you want to do... you have met some wonderful people in past and maybe the universe is trying to balance the scales.. why do you have to reply to people encroaching your space when you command the delete button? You and your time are much more precious than that!

Sentient being said...

Nice :)

Anonymous said...

your last few lines sum up the essence..

Overthinker said...

the essence lies in all the lines. not fair to ignore the other ones.

Anonymous said...

Dear Thinker,

It has been a while since we have spoken or even acknowledged our existence on this whimsical plane humanity labels as earth.

There is only one entity I believe who would enamor your heart so much and do correct me if I am wrong,this entity is off to start another life with that someone else who might not be "as genuine" as you were

Hope you have moved on in life because eternity is too long a time for mourning love that was perhaps never yours, someday you shall too find what you are looking for

Regards
Anonymous (W E A R E A L E G I O N)