Funny, how temporal people enjoy their everlasting stay in our hearts, and feast endlessly on our sanity, because the more we dodge thinking about them, the more we think. True that human psyche is loaded with million complications. This one gets far more complicated when we try escaping nostalgia, and yet find ourselves tripping on very thoughts. What if she stayed, what if he missed that plane, would it be a little better? We don’t know, but we romanticize the idea of rosy possibilities.
The thing is we need closure. We all have this inescapable desire to have one more conversation, one more lazy afternoon nap together, one more hug, and the need to always say the last words, to finish what was started. This tempestuous little devil that we have in our chests is far more dangerous than we think, and so it is caged for a reason. Only if we knew how to program it to forget ‘what once was’ and focus on ‘here and now’, but alas we don’t have the skill. Or maybe if we can hold onto our nerves, we can still manage to put a leash on it, but the question is: do we really want to? This suffering. This longing of squeezing out the last juices of what’s already gone and can never be resurrected makes us a bit vulnerable and a lot human. So, we are always romanticizing over what-ifs, dying, but never learning from our mistakes or missed opportunities.
We know Time has already done its damages. That even if, one fine day, these people decide to turn-up at our doorsteps, they won’t be the same people that they were at their departure. And we want their same old, outdated, rotted version to fill our hollowness; not a version that is grown-up, seen-all, smarter-ass. This is for the people who are still somewhere. But those who eloped into nothingness, we need them in any form possible to sooth our millennia-old sufferings.
Sad, how we keep squeezing our hearts and hope that maybe one day this pain will turn into pleasure. Or is it that we have learned to enjoy this slow but slaughtering deterioration?