I stared at her, aghast. The sense of betrayal is slowing down my senses, the ability to fully comprehend the magnitude of what she is saying. She took my silence as approval to continue and that she did, pushing an invisible knife deeper and deeper into my already wounded heart. My mind was threatening to shut down completely, refusing to take what her words would mean, what my life would be after hearing the steady flow of words that was eloquently said with such deep underlying meaning and consequences. I wanted to tell her to stop and yet my logical side of my head is kicking back into life and demanded my consciousness to listen to what she had to say, to at least hear her justification of her actions. I tried to listen, to comprehend and yet what I saw was darkness; darkness where her presence used to be a light. I stood up and walked away. My scientific mind could not think of any action that would not embarrass the both of us, any other move I could make that could simply state my rejection of what she had said.

She never stopped me. She would know by now that there was nothing that she could say or do to lessen the pain I felt. As I walked out, my life seems to be unraveling, the frail threads of happiness that has bound her to me and me to her lies frayed and torn; and I was left desolate. It was a little thing, really. Perhaps I could accept her apology. It is not as if I could not forgive her and grasp this last chance of happiness. I had forgiven her before. Didn’t I love her? I sighed and turned back. Or did I really hate her? I stopped. This realisation was painful, and yet in that split second, I know it to be true. I didn’t love her, I hated her, I hated her with all my heart. All those years of pain and my attempts of forgiveness, making allowances for her, trying to understand. I am so tired. Tired of always going back to her. Going back to misery and pretending it was happiness. I just wanted things to be the same. I don’t want my life to change, for better or for worse. I want to live day to day with the same uniform expectancy of how things would go. I want to know that I would be doing the same things today, tomorrow, the year after. I do not want my life to change. That is why I have grown to accept all that she had done, anything as long as she stays at my side. And she has exploited that dependency of mine. Knowing that she could do anything that she knows would hurt me, wound my heart and soul. And yet with the smug belief that I would always forgive her, and after a few awkward days, my love for her would remain unchanged.

I didn’t get it right that first time; I don’t hate her as much as I hate myself. I hated the very fact that my existence could rely so heavily on that one single person. I hated what I had become under the shadow of our supposed love. I wish I could run away to a place where no one knows me, and have not a single iota of expectation from me, wouldn’t raise an eyebrow at how I acted, wouldn’t compare me then and now. And because I know that I could not, and perhaps would not, I am wretched. A person who goes about life taking nothing, demanding nothing. Depression came swiftly and predictably. Suicidal thoughts were the norm of the day. This wasn’t the life I wanted, this wasn’t how I imagined my life to be. But as I know I wouldn’t even have the courage to commit suicide, I suffered alone, smiling to the world while my soul was being eaten up inside. I know no one cares and that I had kept up the pretence of being friendly to a lot of people whom I do not care about and who would simply take advantage of me. Was it really too much to ask?

Perhaps. I am powerless to change the way my course of life is running. Or do I? Admitting that it wasn’t really the way I wanted it to go was a big step for me. Maybe it was a first step. A step in a life-long quest to stop letting my life be dictated by others, to just let go once in a while and ignore what others might think or say about me. This might be difficult, even impossible, but I have a chance. And maybe, after all these years of pain and suffering, I might have something to thank her for.

I walked away, with a firmer step and a stronger soul. The euphoria of finding oneself does not last, I know, but I had finally found something I could always hold on to. Not another imperfect being, but an inner core within myself. As I walked away, knowing that she was looking at me a bit strangely, I exalted inside. I am finally free, and I loved every moment of it.