Half kept promises and silence

Some time ago, I came to know someone who was vulnerable in more ways than I was. We spoke less, silence filled many moments together and yet it never felt wrong. Over months, we understood one another in depths we didn't know we could. We were exposed to aching parts of the other, we didn't exactly know how to handle or heal. While we were trying to shed our apprehensions and fall into a beautifully miserable trap,  not everyone was welcoming towards the comfort we came to share. 

It wasn't easy,  to be everyone's cause to mold and shape. To be questioned for being present for someome with many layers, unknown and vaguely disbalanced by life's scenarios. It was hurtful to see the ones I held closest to walk away,  despise and disapprove of my choice to stay. But I remembered one lesson through the hurt.  Never dissapoint the one that accepts you raw and naive. I stood by longer than I could and my emotions allowed but maybe it wasn't meant to last. And when I finally stepped away, I had to leave behind a piece of me. Now I will forever be incomplete.  Aching in more ways than I was before I knew what misery felt like. 

What we shared wasn't silence alone, we shared unspoken half kept promises and holes shaped like one another. I may not have known him fully,  but I knew him in ways no one could. We may not share a lifetime together,  but we shared failure together. We shared the cold of the winter evenings and ten minutes of silence for several months. I'll always feel hallow for letting go. I know you will too.  But I will also feel blessed to have known you. To have you know me. To help me know me. 

If we ever meet again I will tell you the things I was too scared to before.  Even if you don't share your truths,  I'll know you have respected and loved me in ways I still have to learn. I will always keep you in my book shelf tucked away between my favourite books. I'll wear you around my wrist, to let you know I have cherished you. Your acceptance has taught me to never settle for less.  

We might not be the ones others choose,  but we'll always remember that everyone deserves self less love and sometimes sacrifices. Thank you for giving me moments I'll take to my grave. The silence and the half truths. We had something beyond people's acceptance. We had moments of laughter and tears. Our first conversations with the soul. Remember that we let go to keep afloat in the violent waters of expectations. Good bye till we sink to the bottom and meet again. To love and share.  Unconditionally forever.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

25

At 22, I didn't think I'd be 23 and then I was. At 23, I didn't think I'd be 24 and then I turned 24. At 24 now, I think I'll most definitely not be 25. But, perhaps, I will be.  Along the way, I've lost so much of who I was at 20 that turning 25 doesn't seem so much a celebration. Dreams have slipped by in the chaos of making it through every night. Ambitions left behind in the ache of not having enough strength to wake up. People have come and gone and while there have been fleeting moments of joy, nothing has ever seemed to last.  Those I grew up around tell me, you're not the same anymore. And I look at myself and don't see the spark I held in my eyes. Small joys aren't joys anymore. They're chores. Most of them, I'm unable to complete.  I wrote myself a letter at 18, one I was supposed to read at 25. When I read it, I am certain I won't find the girl whom I wrote it for. People I live around now, tell me, I like to suffer. But I...
Read more

Journal entry 2025

TW- Suicide, anxiety, mental health. A few months ago, I rang up my mother crying, unaware of what that conversation would open up for me. While we were talking, she casually remarked how she had never known me to have cried a lot growing up. A simple observation that didn't seem to strike me for the few seconds and then it did. My mother was unaware of how easily or often I cried growing up. And that opened a Pandora's box of unpleasant memories. It struck me that I had cried almost every day for as long as my memory stood correct and that I had mostly cried before bedtime or after waking up. This meant two things, my immediate family did not always know of the crying and that it was not being triggered by an active element. It was mostly without an argument or fight, without being put in danger or harm's way.  Over the past few years, it is well known among my social circles that I can cry at the drop of a hat. Some people, who've known me for over a couple of years k...
Read more