Love & Hate

Love. A year ago, I would have followed it up with peace, happiness, contentment, smiles and a few more adjectives of a similar kind. Now I also add to that list restlessness, a constant curiosity, insecurity, and occassional irritation.

Before I am accussed of pessimism, let me clarify. Love is never only about beaming at the ceiling. So much more accomapnies it. So much that I at least did not expect. It is a wonderful journey, it is something I would love to repeat (now that my first trip is finally over!). But it is not without its bumps and potholes.

Often, Love and Hate (oxymoronic as they sound) collide even today. I feign indifference often. I only fool the others. I can never fool myself into it. They are two sides of the same coin and the complete blank that is indifference I will never achieve (nor do I want to. I have cared too much to throw it all away.)

The journey is over and I am finally home. The memories like a photo album tucked away in a corner... a small, dark corner. Sometimes I switch on the light and I stare in hope for a richer, fuller album; something I can put in a frame on my desk. Sometimes I go so far as to fetch it out and turn the first few pages. Then I feel like the man in White Nights, living half a fantasy. So I shake my head and bring myself back to my world. Sometimes I feel like tearing it, but I cannot bring myself to do so. Someday, I might yet laugh when I see those photographs. For now, I lock the cupboard, pack my bags, and get ready for a new journey.

Note: This was written about a month ago. I chose not to put it up then. I do now, for while I am not indifferent, I am less restless and more at peace today.