Those Two Weeks.

There were moments of over-flowing words and emotionally-charged silences.

Sometimes words were all we had to try and get the other person to understand what was going on in our minds, hearts and souls. We just kept talking and trying to get our same old points across but constantly talking over the other. We both then go unheard, and we wondered why. I do not remember any moments that we had paused to think. It was a war with words and whoever had the longest speech bubbles would win, because then the messages cannot go ignored and they will drown out everything else running on the same screen. Fast and furious, the texts kept coming throughout the night and no one would want to stop talking because neither one of us wanted to admit that nothing was being fixed. Words are cheap, and we both know that all too well. But that did not stop us from miscommunicating over and over and over again. It was a constant push and pull for attention to each other’s wants instead of the then and now.

We were so preoccupied with the nitty gritty details that the big picture just flew out of our minds like an uncaged bird – lost and gone forever and probably killed by a stray cat down the street.

Sometimes words were not enough to paint the pictures that we wanted to share. After all, we were and are only human so how were we to know which words would not hurt and would heal instead? While doing justice to whatever it was we wanted to put across? It was trial and error that ended mostly in errors because luck simply was not on our side. It was just bitterness and frustration and we were in a place where the hurt was so much more apparent than the love. A place of shipwrecks and sunken dreams and torn white flags of surrender. A place that we never wanted to be in in the first place. Then finally all that could have been said were said and the tiredness stung to the core of our bones. Silence took over, but the space between us were hardly empty because the hurt inflicted upon ourselves became our oxygen and we started talking to ourselves instead. An exterior silence, accompanied by an inner turmoil. Posing questions to the all too familiar reflection staring back and trying to get answers that never existed. Was it really this dramatic to the various third parties we talked to? I don’t know, but it definitely felt like that when I was awake during wee hours of the morning trying to figure out where I went wrong this time and if it was going to end just like how it all began – sudden, fleeting and unexpected.

We were so drained of colour by each other and ourselves that laughing or being happy just felt like betrayal. It was a time when many kinds of emotions died and we only felt a consistent sense of loss every single day – rain or shine.

But we still cared for one another while everything was playing out, and maybe this episode was just a classic example of how we always hurt the ones we love.

Or maybe I am just here trying to justify why it happened and how love could still possibly exist in these deep cracks on weak bones and fresh wounds on fair skin.




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