That Ruckus Called Relationships

What makes people fall in love with the very folks they should stay away from? Is it some peculiar attraction? Is it a tendency? Or plain foolishness?

She’d heard about patterns before. That psychological thing unique about every personality, about how some individuals tend to do or choose some things over the others out of sheer habit. She had not realized she was possibly falling under the same category.

Maybe she wasn’t. She just thought too much and read between the lines too often. Sometimes needlessly.

But then, what had happened this time? Hadn’t it occurred before? Her meeting someone who seemed so perfect, not objectively, but for her. All she wanted was a lot of affection, care and attention, and she in return, single-handedly took charge of all the troubles and ambitions that the other had. No matter that the guy did not have a bike, had hardly any money or social life. If her requisites were met, she made sure that life for the both of them was rosy and rocking.

It started off amazingly well. Always did. The two of them needed nothing but each other, and they could not bear to spend a moment apart. Even if distances separated them, they were always connected by technology, concern and love. It looked like life couldn’t be better, that destiny and the gods were smiling down upon them and granting them all their hearts desired.

They laughed and they talked incessantly, they shared every single thing and feeling. Waiting for the next opportunity to meet caused anguish and parting was worse than bidding goodbye to life itself. Hearts were always warm and amorous, eyes couldn’t get enough of each other, arms yearned to take the other into an eternal embrace. Life was beautiful…

And then, it so turned out that “each other” was not good enough. Petty arguments became the order of the day, and not a single hour could they pass peacefully with the other. No one really knew how or why the fights started, but it was obvious that things would never mend again. Cracks always show when the attack is deep. The wound stays long after the injury mends.

Of course they tried. Tried long and hard. Tried with sincerity and with laxity. Tried with hope and with frustration. Did not work. The other’s words and actions grew unendurable and being together was intolerable.

“I want to be with you” she thought, “and yet I cannot… And ask me how it hurts… To choose to be away from the very person my heart is dying to caress and love.”

Every day she saw couples outside her office window, zooming around on bikes. She saw couples at the coffee shop she frequented. Couples thronged the areas she was familiar with, and she could not help but observe what they were doing and saying.

“C’mon baby, you know I don’t want to hurt you” murmured the guy sweetly as he stroked the girl’s chin and tears streamed down her cheek.

“Hahaha… And then he came to my place and I wouldn’t let him in. Then he…” grinned a girl enthusiastically.

“So, did you get the notes for that class?” asked a young boy of his equally young girlfriend.

“My cousin’s coming over tomorrow. I don’t think I can go for that gathering…”

And so on.

Topics many and topics varied. Topics funny and topics sentimental. Topics light and topics intense. Different couples living the different shades of life and love. Just like her. Would they end the same way she had? Some might, some she hoped not.

What exactly goes wrong when people decide to end a relation? Why do couples break up after proclaiming their happiness and passion to the world?

Is it because they are posing to be someone else when they are with the “loved one” and they get tired of holding up this image? Or do preferences and priorities change over time? Does love die or does understanding fail to survive? Do empathy and patience abandon the people involved? Does “I” become more important than “YOU” and “WE”? Maybe all of the above…

The reasons many, the consequence the same. THE END.

Read a saying somewhere - Relationships are like glass... Sometimes it is better to leave them broken than to try and hurt yourself putting it back together...

The emotions varied… Ranging from hurt and broken to lively and happy, calm acceptance to frustrated unease, and at times, dilemma over whether to be or not to be… Saying “I’m happy” as you sob pitifully, and expressing your loss while smirking involuntarily.

Beauty? Money? Intelligence? Status? Humor?

Nothing is as essential as Love… Acceptance… and Tolerance.

Things to prohibit?

Ego… Insolence… And the desire to hurt.

And when the tongues wag and tempers soar high, just call for a time out and get back when you can explain yourself better. DO discuss, coz if you avoid, it’s gona come back one way or the other at one time or the other.

What to say when you’re sharing notes? Just keep it short and simple, say what you felt when something happened, and why you liked/didn’t like it. Voila! The route to more effective relationships. Why keep raking the past and future and making generalized comments that serve no purpose except screwing matters and moods?

Good luck, to you and to me.

Love always,
Princess

P.S : Found this touching paragraph in the Moonstone by Wilkie Collins. Just had to share it with you and preserve these lines and emotions on my blog for life... It's on page 340, Chapter 1 of the Third Narrative by Mr. Franklin Blake.

“I went abroad, resolved – if change and absence could help me – to forget her. It is, I am persuaded, no true view of human nature which denies that change and absence do help a man under these circumstances : they force his attention away from the exclusive contemplation of his own sorrow. I never forgot her; but the pang of remembrance lost its worst bitterness, little by little, as time, distance and novelty interposed themselves more and more effectually between Rachel and me.

On the other hand, it is no less certain that, with the act of turning homeward, the remedy which had gained its ground so steadily, began now, just as steadily to drop back. The nearer I drew to the country which she inhabited, and to the prospect of seeing her again, the more irresistibly her influence began to recover its hold on me. On leaving England, she was the last person in the world, whose name I would have suffered to pass my lips. On returning to England, she was the first person I inquired after…”