A Piece of Me
“Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn’t stop for anybody.” ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
It took me a long time to get over the naivety that those who are dear to me will be with me always. I had the best of friends through middle school and high school, and they stayed on even after graduation. So the feeling of closeness, the excitement that comes with friendship, it never left. And I never wanted it to change.
But it did.
And when it did, it took a lot out of me. And it was very difficult to adjust. It was a void that was previously not there, and I had no idea how to fill it, or if the missing pieces would return. Friendship is something that matters to me. I hold on till I find I absolutely cannot. It made me contemplate. It made me introspect. It made me ask what happened that they let go of me. That was the first time I took a step into blogging. Up until then, I hadn’t thought of poetry or writing as being therapeutic. When I wrote after the voids came, I felt the wounds healing, the scars fading.
When you believe in the magic of friendship and feel it to be permanent, it leaves a mark on you. When the piece that was missing fell back in place suddenly, I didn’t doubt it. I didn’t notice the gaps at the edges, and I papered over them. The mark deep within just wanted everything back to the way it was. It was willing to adjust, to believe that a void had not happened for even that little time. When I began to think I hadn’t been ill, I forgot what had made me better.
And I left it to wither away in the darkness.
Looking back, I think it was that decision that cost me. Another void came in my life when I least expected it. And it shook me. It shook out the pieces I had papered over. And the dominos began to topple. For me, it was like falling into a bottomless pit. After a while, you just pray that you hit the end soon. You’re tired of falling, and you feel like you are alone.
It was the friend who got me to blogsville who came to my rescue again. He reminded me of that old cure. And I embraced it. It took a while, but I found that the words had never left me. They lived in me. It was bliss. Even when the pieces came back, I knew it and understood it that those pieces may leave again, but the words which lived in me wouldn’t. It was the inspiration to start a new life and begin again. And slowly I began to live in words. This was a space where I could be me. I didn’t have to leave the past behind, I didn’t have to run away to a different city to start anew.
And I have never looked back since.
Now I live in the moment, not worried where I’m headed. And I hope that it doesn’t change when I am shaken again, because I know that the only thing that is constant is change, and there would be a change that is likely to test my strength.
(© 10th March 2015)