Sitting on that beautiful, dark wood high shelf, her good friends for bad times Whiskey, Wine and Vodka seemed to be having a hush-hush talk about her disappearance from their lives. “The real question is why is she avoiding us?” asked Whiskey rhetorically. Wine sighed but remained silent. “She looks pretty happy without us; look at her new friend, Water.” Vodka added angrily, while she poured a glass of water and gulped it down.
It’s not like she wasn’t grateful to her liquid friends for loaning her some sanity in the middle of the storm; but the worst was over. She had done it; despite everything, she had managed to get her life back. The desire to take refuge in alcohol had finally been tamed by her sheer grit to punch the demon of depression right in the gut. Those very emotions that sabotaged her life were now the lessons, experiences and scars she valued greatly.
Yes, she had her life back.
“I have never seen you “happy drunk”. Why do you drink?” her friend questioned. She pondered over the question and responded with a teary-eyed smile. No words. If only it was that simple to quiet the stubborn tormenting voice in her head asking her the same question over and over again, she thought… Then she thought some more and tried to come up with an answer. Yes, she liked being liquored up every once in a while… maybe because it guaranteed bringing to the fore all the pain she managed to bottle up in her sober state… maybe because she enjoyed not being in control every once in while… maybe because she relished the pain that missing him brought her every once in while… maybe because her drunk self reveled in the knowledge that she still was madly in love with him despite the constant denial by her sane self… “Aah, too many maybes to deal with,” she told herself and blasted music to stop this chatter in her head. Indeed, there were too many maybes.
And there she was. Crushed, cursed, devastated. She had thought that she had finally met a match, a mirror, a man who would outrival her courage… but she hadn’t…
It was a mask yet again.
It was a spineless wimp yet again.
It was a love of convenience yet again.
I want magic. I want madness. I want “you”.
Her friend told her to write bravely. She wrote, “He said he loved me and I believed him. I loved him, I hope he loved me too… even if it was for a moment, I hope he loved me too… the way I loved him.”
And she bared her true feelings to the people that mattered to her.
She told them how he made her feel. She was surprised at her audacity. She knew they did not approve. She knew that they thought it was an absolute mismatch. But she still said it all and said it out loud. He took her to places she’d never been, places she could not even have imagined existed. So she kept trying to explain what he was… Not that anyone was convinced, but she felt uncurbed.
At the very least it was liberating. She felt liberated… emancipated!
People keep undermining the power of words. Every time you say, “I love you and I believe in a forever with you,” all my doubts cease to exist… The anxiety about the future goes away. All I am left with then is “us” and “now”. And that, my love, is perfect!
And then the realisation dawned on her… He indeed made her tremble with the sweet pain of pleasure, every time. He made her experience pleasures she never thought she was capable of feeling. But in the end, he was just a chapter in her book that was fast coming to a close… A chapter, a lesson, a memory and an experience. An experience she unabashedly reveled in, an experience that made her aware of a side she never knew existed, an experience that left her with a lot of anticipation for the coming chapters… and that is one thing she was grateful to him for… probably, the only thing.