23 January, 2002
Dear 'You' ,
This was the day when I had walked away from you, cutting off every relation and intimacy I had shared,
Ever.
Do you recall the times of your disorder? I get goosebumps when I have to remind you what you had done with 'us'. Your 'n' number of mood disorders; your awful attitude towards me; the moments of mere distress and dejection . . Do you remember all this? How wouldn't you? You impaired me; my soul. How wouldn't you hence recall all the monstrous times of your own? That was the day and the date when I had made a decision to leave you as a bare character in my life and not be affected by your presence. Infact, that was the sole day of me realizing that 'you were sick'. Sick Mentally as well as Emotionally ! No you have never had no sentiments for women, but not taking that in consideration, we were 'Us'. We had a relation which certainly I gave up on. Only because, you.were.sick.
Sigh.
We were a couple before. Remember? And now, we are plain outsiders. As if we have abandoned the hearty place in each other which we called, 'Home'. Not even knowing if you physically exist on this planet, I am writing this to myself. Somewhere, deep down around the core of my heart's vessel, I feature that love was present between us during that era. Yah, era because I am failing to extract the very last time I saw your shadow. I am unable to concentrate on the last text of yours, which said, "I think I am getting bored of you, or maybe falling for you in an uncanny manner, I can't decide. I ll go. Or should I"?
Following your bizarre notions with an unset mind, I had to drop down to the closure. At first it was a plain word for 'humor'. However then I replaced that with a solemn charge of your illness.
You used to hit me; thrash me; throw over your nasty times full of attitude; getting back to me without any complaints; getting away from me; being normal one second and reverse the other. . . OH! There is what not to chatter about? Hearing that an ill man is no less than a curse . . Your mood disorders were no less than heart pounding intervals for me. . I have tried to get over your presence, but I succeeded. I am sated with the life I am living on right now. At least its away from the mindless combats we have had because of your mood effects. I am married with 3 kids. But even then, there is a hope to see you or grow old with you in near future. I don't know how you would have been. It has been 20 years and I haven't inspected your dusk. I hope you are out from the hospital you were lastly submitted in for 7 months to be treated for your disorder.
We stand nowhere in each other's lives, yet I hope to see that actual beam on your face you had missed 20 years ago. I just hope you have been cured and living humanly unbroken. I - I am just sick here, waiting for my mind to return from the trip of 20 years of past. So that I feel the present again. My kids who are without a mother's shelter mentally, they .. . . . . they need me. Look, we suffered . .
Get well soon Roahl, get me well soon when you gain conscious. I think you are not here, yet you are. I don't know. My brain bothers me. I need help. I need you. Will you come? Please?
Sigh.
22 March, 2022.
Me.
© Latika Sareen
Following your bizarre notions with an unset mind, I had to drop down to the closure. At first it was a plain word for 'humor'. However then I replaced that with a solemn charge of your illness.
You used to hit me; thrash me; throw over your nasty times full of attitude; getting back to me without any complaints; getting away from me; being normal one second and reverse the other. . . OH! There is what not to chatter about? Hearing that an ill man is no less than a curse . . Your mood disorders were no less than heart pounding intervals for me. . I have tried to get over your presence, but I succeeded. I am sated with the life I am living on right now. At least its away from the mindless combats we have had because of your mood effects. I am married with 3 kids. But even then, there is a hope to see you or grow old with you in near future. I don't know how you would have been. It has been 20 years and I haven't inspected your dusk. I hope you are out from the hospital you were lastly submitted in for 7 months to be treated for your disorder.
We stand nowhere in each other's lives, yet I hope to see that actual beam on your face you had missed 20 years ago. I just hope you have been cured and living humanly unbroken. I - I am just sick here, waiting for my mind to return from the trip of 20 years of past. So that I feel the present again. My kids who are without a mother's shelter mentally, they .. . . . . they need me. Look, we suffered . .
Get well soon Roahl, get me well soon when you gain conscious. I think you are not here, yet you are. I don't know. My brain bothers me. I need help. I need you. Will you come? Please?
Sigh.
22 March, 2022.
Me.
© Latika Sareen
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