I have this bad habit. It’s called leaving. My preference between “fight or flight” is fleeing. I leave at the first sign of danger. I also leave at later signs of too much joy and contentment-something like “O goodness! You are too good to be true and you make me so happy I’m not sure I can match up so I’ll just be on my way bye see yah!”-just like that. I am a **nice monster and I am not afraid to admit it.If history is anything to go by I’m almost toxic. Not fit for human consumption. This is not fiction, this is reality.
The person that coined “practice makes perfect” was right,he or she deserves a nickel because I am living proof. Pushing people away is an art I have perfected too well it should have its place in my resume,somewhere down there where people lie about their hobbies to suit whatever it is they are applying for. Apart from my family which I am stuck with for life (and I like it) and a few human beings that I love too much to consider leaving I am very much a female player. Only difference is I don’t ask for sex. It hit me today and this does not mean I’ve been living in ignorance of my own major flaw all this time. I guess today was the appointed day written in the stars for me to address the elephant in the room. I am the room and the elephant is larger than I. It is a huge jumbo.
Forget the Great Wall of China; I am an expert in building high and mighty walls. My walls obey my will and only cave when I let them. I am the great architect of these walls, a few more similar experiences and I will set up a consultancy firm in New York. Heck,I will open branches all over with my name on every door probably accompanied with a cheesy slogan like “Your fresh cup of tea. She is warm but she is cold!” I want to send anonymous emails to all the people I left in the cold without a shrug, people that mattered up until a certain point where without substantive cause or reason I left them sad and alone, teeth rattling and hearts cracked-some broken. I want to invite all of them to one large conference room in a nicely-tucked hotel. Maybe scenic,facing a shore. I want us to sit round a table. That would have to be one big table. I want to offer them tea with buttered bread or bacon. If they don’t fancy tea I will give them whatever it is they want, be it chicken milk or honey grown in Antarctica. I will go to any length to have them in that room seated and watching me, waiting for me to say something the same way they used to but I said nothing in return. This time I’d talk.
I’d pour my heart out to them, one at a time.
I’d tell them I cared. I really did. It might not seem like it going by the blue Whatsapp ticks, red missed calls and generally my grey beating heart but I will tell them once upon a time I deeply cared. That for the period we existed we were real. They brought life into my life and the moments we had were priceless. That when they laughed at my jokes it was the greatest thing and when I told them I missed them my heart was truly craving for them. I would tell them that I lived for the late-night texts, the random dates, the moon-light moments and sunsets alike. I looked forward to seeing them as much as they did and much more to our ordinary days just so long as we existed.
Then I’d tell them I was aware how I killed them, softly-(not in the romantic way).I know how I muffled them to silence like one would do with a pillow. I pressed it against against their faces in the dead of night while they lay dreaming dreams of how we good we were together-pressed that pillow mercilessly till they could not breathe right and their legs kicked in the air and their finger nails dug into my hands all leading to a slow painful death. I did not give them even the slightest chance to say their last words. Not even one last prayer. This pillow was made of shallow words and deep-seated pride or fear or both-words formed for my own convenience at the risk of being close, the risk of just another friendship or another happily-ever-after. I will narrate the tale of my sheer rudeness and my sincere remorse-that they opened the door and out of my own consent I entered and got cosy,made them feel at home in themselves and all only to pack my bags and leave without as much as one hint of care.
Of course not everyone I have left is to brood over but this is for those I unceremoniously let go. We had a good run, too bad I ran away. No one gave me a medal for that.