The two territories of being and not being in love.

We have probably held hands for so long that now our palms feel empty and our love has lasted for such a long stretch of time that we have forgotten what the stink of hate is like. Throughout the fall, the spring and the autumn you have heard the crackle of my laughter echo in the rooms and you have also seen the tissues stained with tears after countless sleepless nights. All this time we have stayed together, we have said ‘I love you’ only a few times, but we have filled our love even in the trenches of time which exists between two seconds. How satisfyingly I have looked down in your eyes for minutes and found the answers I was seeking and how effortlessly you have melted in my arms after your long tiring days all these years.

I don’t think anyone could have imagined, including my stupid self that one day when I walk through that creaking wooden door answering your voice at six thirty at the dusk, I would feel, simply nothing. Now don’t get me wrong but, it is not that I have stopped loving you or that I have fallen out of love because the ditch we dug was so deep, but it is as if a new seed has grown in my head. I look at the pretty face, across the kitchen and I think to myself how lucky I must have been to deserve this life, to deserve this era and to deserve the person whose hands timidly pick up the cupcakes in front of her. And it is then I realise that although she is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on and an exceptionally caring soul, I am at most, a broken, emotional mess of turmoil and stupidity.

The comfort of her bosom, and the lullaby-like voice which surely intoxicates me, pushes me only towards a sweet, deep slumber, but what if, sleeping soundly is the last thing I want today. What do I do when I feel my heart thump against my chest, dying to feel alive, to seek the unknown and urging me to stir out of my four walls. The sharp contrast between my two desires plays in my mind like a loudly blaring montage. But, I look at her, in awe, in love, in affection and in absolutely gruelling discomfort and I merely wonder whether there exists a little grey strip of land between the two territories of being and not being in love.

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