“To stay with you I would be a fool…
But when I walked away, I knew it was the most foolish thing anyways…”
When love ends, it’s like packing your things to shift your home. You are always undecided till the end what to take with you, and what to leave behind. You are afraid that one day those things you’ve left behind will be delivered right at your door-step (with incorrect amount of postage stamps of course, but that’s still acceptable sometimes…), and you would end up staring at them, never knowing whether to throw them away, or hide them somewhere in the basement.
What starts as a bunch of Technicolor dreams turns to a set of worn-out and jaded black-and-white duplicates, only a collector’s item, never to be played back, but only to be kept as another memory on the shelf, to talk to friends about, and reminisce over a casual martini.
The most interesting conversations happen once it’s all over. Infact all those things that you had bottled up inside, now effuse like the smell of mothballs from the corner of your mind’s closet. Though admittedly, there’s some consolation perhaps in the fact that you got your heart back at least. We are of course not talking here about all those things you never got back (and never will).
And to top it all, the clincher is definitely the last and perhaps the most wonderful cliché:
“But we’ll always be friends”.
I have tried to comprehend the intensity of this statement, sometimes piecemeal, sometimes holistically, but even after all this time, I still fail to understand whether the keyword in this statement is “we”, or “friends”?