The Last Phone Call

All you said last night was shock. You have always handed me uncertainty. Uncertainty exhausts me. I am so tired of everyone, which is to say I am so tired of myself. You were never here, so how could you leave? There was no possibility of our meeting. The timelines were too far apart. We barely touched each other’s lives. We did not ask for forgiveness enough. We did not ask each other what it meant to create something. Last night what I lost in you is hope. Something greater than you and I. It's the loss of something that I would never experience - something I got very close to having and then losing it. That is what pains me the most. People come and go; all I want is to expand and contain everything. I feel so small because of this desire. I feel so vulnerable and fleeting because of this smallness. All this brevity of things brings nothing but remorse and questions and more questions and more questions. Once again, in my life, a woman has won. It is as if all women are a reflection of my mother and sisters. All I do is fight. It's a strange ambition to have. Win at all costs. There is no rest in it. My friends are probably right. I play long games. I befriend my competitors and learn how to win. Someone once pointed it out to me: it's because you hate that part of yourself - the one you are ashamed of! I stopped talking to that person. I don't know why. You said I am very passive-aggressive. You also said I create problems, and I know how to provide solutions to them as well. You said I should not listen to my friends. You taught me how to make it work. You told me about priorities. You have such a statistical brain. You were always so far, yet so close. Close enough to happen. Your threads of fate never let us. Last night, you reminded me of Past Lives and how there are people whose paths cross for a little moment but are separated again. Brief moments of knowing. Brief moments of I-am-going-to-have-you to I-almost-had-you. How come you liked me but not enough to get me? I have had to make peace with each confession you have thrown at me. You talked and talked, and I let it all wash over me, whispering to myself: I have been here. I have been here before. I have always been here. Not again. I am going through it again. What one gets, one gets for a reason. What one doesn't get, one doesn't get for a reason. What remains is what matters. What stays is what matters. Here i am all alone with enough love to give up on you.

I told you to not be hard on yourself. I told you to get married. I was asking of you a normal life. I am watching you escape and be free. I stand here alone with so much love. You are strange enough to believe that I do not destroy things. You are strange enough to see all the possibilities I create. You are strange enough to believe that I am not the victim of my life. You told me I am the one in the driver's seat. I am the director. I shape the way I want to shape, and I take things wherever I want to take them. You told me that the other person will only react - I am the one who creates the situation. You told me how my sentences carry so many variables. You understand the complexity of my brain. You tapped into the anxiety I have of not being understood.

The Earth has no corners. All my life, I have chased people who did not understand me. Who did not understand what I had to say? It's all a defense mechanism. I build walls around me through language. I create distance through language. I carry language as a weapon through which I cut, break, mend, escape, and create things. If someone understood me, I would lose my charm, and would they still love me? If someone understood me completely would they still care for me? I would be a pitiless boring chapter in their life like I have always been to other people. I would lose all my attraction if I put the mast to the side. In short, I am scared of losing something I have never held. In other lives, I may have touched the things I want to touch now. In other lives, I may possess the things I want to possess now. It makes me feel closer to God.

Yes, our conversation last night made me think of God. How terribly I wanted to return with a tired heart full of small things that have or still upset me. I think of returning to the beloved and have seen disinterest and lack of understanding there. What I want is to go home now for a while. Rest there and look into the eyes of God and say: I am here now. We have played enough. I am finally home. What do You want me to do now? I am so tired and torn and battle worn. This is what Your gift has done to me, the gift You call life. I am here, and I will never be satisfied, and I would still miss out on Your lessons. Call me ungrateful - I am still Yours, and I return to You. Take me in Your cradle:

“I seek refuge in the light of Your countenance.”

Image: Self-Portrait by Andy Warhol