That's My Business, Not Yours

The moon, stars, and infinity were the witnesses of how many nights spent where I was wishing this would happen. Our path finally crossed, the lane of our wordless and colorless memories that once neglected in the unknown is slowly floating up to the surface, making its appearance, framing a deep curiosity and mystery.

I lost all my words the day you decided to talk to me. My rhymes are gone and my vocabulary equals to none.

Maybe I’m just this tiny speck of fragment you seize every day just for the sake of routine. While she — whoever it is you were telling me, although implicitly — is out there living her best life, as you wish to be by her side. If I must lie, there is not even a single hope in me to happen to be the girl in your story. But I’ve never been a good liar. So here I am, writing this so that I’ll be able to breathe. Because waiting sucks and it makes my chest heavy.

Maybe you’re here to fill the void gaping inside me. But I don’t want you to heal me. I want you to accept my broken pieces without puzzling them one by one. If I am vulnerable, and raw, and hopeless, how would you look at me? This broken, traumatic, fearful self. Aside of the idea you created in your head, would I be better than that? Than her?

So I’m going to write. I’m going to write about this for a long time. I’m going to remember this all my life. Cherishing the joy and the pain you put me through. Or should I say, the pain I put myself through. Because you didn’t do anything. Every summer, every birthday, every celebration Every music, every movie, every poetry is going to make me remember this. And probably I’m going to curse you or sob your name in my prayers but that’s my business, not yours.

Probably every mention of this topic is going to make me travel back in time to experience the pain again. Asking myself what the hell happened and where did it all go wrong when everything seemed so great at the beginning. But that’s my business, not yours.

And I’m probably going to have to step back from whatever line I was about to cross which I knew from the start I was not supposed to. But that’s my business, not yours.

And perhaps after all of this I need to be slapped back to my reality and put back all the wishes I’ve let out from the jar of stars. Because from the very beginning, I wasn’t supposed to open it at all and shove it to your face, scaring the shit out of you, hoping you could embrace them to paint our dreams together. But that’s my business, not yours.

Maybe I couldn’t differentiate idealism and naivety and I had taken this way too far and I took your kindness for granted and I misinterpreted it. For that I’m sorry. But that’s my business, not yours.

Or maybe you had been playing mind tricks on me and I've tried to be cautious for the red flags yet still I ignored them. But that's my business, not yours.

And I'm not going to ask why you don't talk to me anymore. Because figuring that out would only make me blame myself. Or you. And I have carried enough pain inside me already from my last heartbreak. But that's my business, not yours.

So don’t worry, I will step back slowly.

Maybe I am going to cry before I sleep, and cry again when I wake up, and I’d long in the middle of the day, wondering what you’re up to. But that’s my business, not yours.

Maybe I’m going to scream to some sad songs, or the songs that you listen to which I’m not familiar with, only to feel the glimpses of you or imagining myself communicating with you, seeing the world from your perspective hoping that you’d miss me. But that’s my business, not yours.

And someday you will meet someone who’d open their jar of stars for you. And by then you’re going to welcome them with both hands wide open, big smile on your face that I adore so much.

And I will just watch.

But that’s my business, not yours.

Dhila.