Letter to an Ex-Lover
I feel like I owe you an explanation. An explanation for leaving you all of a sudden, for causing the cuts on your wrist, and the dark circles under your eyes, for leaving you more broken than you were when I found you.
You know why I loved you? I loved you because I loved the idea of loving you. I loved the idea of fixing your shattered soul, one piece at a time. You were like a jigsaw puzzle to me, and I have always loved puzzles. But you know when everything went wrong? When I realized that unlike the inanimate jigsaw puzzles, you didn’t want to be solved. Or maybe you did, but only to be shattered again. You loved the process of being fixed, the feeling of being healed. The solace you found in the process was more the pain of being broken. But something that you never realized was, each time I witnessed you break, a small piece of my heart shattered.
By the time I left you, half my heart was shattered. I had started to feel broken. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and break down, not unlike you. I lack the words to describe the searing pain that I felt, the pain caused by my inability to heal you completely, the pain caused by my inability to make you happy. And trust me, in those last few days, I felt myself becoming like you. I was overwhelmed by the desire of being healed by someone. I craved for someone to make me better. Was that how you felt, Ruhee?
Trust me, I didn’t fear death, but I feared becoming like you. I feared being broken, because there was no one to heal me. Ruhee, I couldn’t afford to break myself in the process of healing you again and again. So, I left. I left, and perhaps that did leave you a little bit more broken, but don’t worry, you’ll find another healer. People love the feeling of healing shattered souls, and you love to be healed. You’ll find another healer, Ruhee, or maybe, you have already found one. But I didn’t want to be broken in the first place. Now, I spend my days trying to heal myself, like I had once tried to heal you, dragging the missing pieces of my shattered heart into the right places, one at a time. And it’s painful. It’s more painful than I had thought it’d be. But it feels good. It feels better than anything I‘ve ever felt before. Oh Ruhee, why didn’t you tell me that being healed feels so good? Maybe… Maybe I’d do it again, break myself into pieces, to be mended again, to experience this amazing pain another time. But… Who will heal me?
Ruhee, find me an answer if you can.
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