Time heals all wounds. Or so they say.
July 2015: Six months had passed and he still cried for her. Half a year gone by and he still felt the pain as if it were fresh. He dreaded January for it brought back memories of her crushing his heart. They were happy, they were in love. But she replaced him like he never meant a thing. He felt like a failure even when his only fault was giving her all he had.
He didn’t know if he could ever love again. Who could blame him? Once bitten and twice shy, after all.
And then I met him. You know the phase of awkwardness that’s always there when you meet someone for the first time? It never happened to us. There was no small talk, no weirdness. It felt like we had known each other forever. Two hours down and we knew this was something different. We went from flirting to teasing to him playing his guitar and singing for me to talking about deep shit like love and life and god.
We started FaceTiming each other. There were no formal “what’s up”s and no awkward silences. We stared at each other through our screens at 3am, made faces at each other, talked about everything. He sang and played his guitar while i watched him. He talked about things no one has ever said to me before. Everything about him appealed to me in a remarkable way. We understood each other on a completely different level. On the fourth day after we met, things took a new turn.
We FaceTimed all night long, for six hours straight (and finished 2GB data too :P). He told me about his dreams, his passions. He’s the kind of a guy who would randomly recite a Charles Bukowski poem. Or play the best piece of music you’ve ever heard. His fingers move like magic and his voice can mesmerise the devil. He keeps saying “God lies in the details”, and by God he means beauty. He gave me a new perspective on life and the best understanding of love. Then he told me about her. He told me their story, and his pain. He cried and i cried with him. It tore me apart to see so much pain behind his gorgeous smile, so much sorrow in his wisdom.
At 6am, when all the tears dried up and laughter long faded away, we just looked at each other, not saying a word- and it was beautiful. He said, “I’m in love with our silence”. So we let our silence talk. After a while, he broke the silence and said, “I want to say it, those three words.” He felt what i felt but I know what stopped him.
He didn’t know if he’d be able to love the same again. “I want to say it”, he repeated. And I wanted to hear it. But all I said was “It’s okay. I do too”
And we let our silence say the rest. Four days…that’s all it took.
Time heals all wounds. Or so they say. But he begs to differ. “LOVE heals all wounds” is what he says. And I’m falling in love with him and all his godly details.
I don’t know what you think, but I think it’s beautiful. I think it’s beautiful to have that kind if compatibility with someone, and that it’s beautiful how two people can just understand each other and that they can make work; what the world craves. Everyone has a different definition of love, some say it’s giving your hundred percent attention to a person, some day it’s about understanding one another, for some it’s confused with lust and for some it means forever. I don’t know what love is, deep affection perhaps, yet, it seems like so much more than that.
“Love heals all wounds” So cliché, yet so true. Makes me wonder whether it was time that helped me move on from him, or my constant ranting to my patient friends, their perpetual motivation and urges to love myself, it was their love, it was my parents’ love, that kept me going, not time. I do however believe that time had a vital role to play but no more than that of love.
Maybe we should find a substitute for the word “love”, I feel as though we as humans have misused and corrupted it’s true essence. It feels strange to even use it because who knows what true love is?