For more than a year, waking up after a good night’s rest has been a rarity except on Fridays and Saturdays. Sundays were the worst because of the impending thought of work the next day.
For more than a year, my relationships with people – be it for direct and indirect reasons – deteriorated. It was a clear reflection of how much I withdrew from people went things became harder to bear. A part of me has no regrets over this because it was the best coping mechanism I knew while another part is saddened over the prospect of irreparable relationships.
For more than a year, belief was in short supply. Confidence was never something I had a huge proportions but somehow, I had to find them somewhere, somehow. Almost everyday my self-belief took a beating, borne out of an extremely caustic environment.
As one chapter of my life slowly grinds to a (hopefully) peaceful end, there is now the hope that the new one would be better.
Our gaze met many times. The first time it happened, the look in her eyes was one of connection as her memory was jolted before it spoke of attempts to recollect.
The second time it happened – a few weeks later – there was more of calmness. Her eyes told of how the question of who I was became somewhat settled. I was someone from her past – something she might or might not acknowledge – and that was enough for her. However, there remained a hint of how she hasn’t figured everything out yet.
When our gaze met for the third time, both of us were talking. No, it wasn’t a conversation between old friends. As we were both at work, there wasn’t much time to do any reminiscing or even pose questions to ascertain the guesses she had about the small role I played in her past. We lingered in each other’s presence for a few minutes, standing next to each other and observing people in the meeting room.
As she left to chat with a couple of business associates, I knew some things are worth the memories but not the words.