Dear Blue Heart,
I miss you. And I miss you way more than you think I do. I just don't say it very often, but I do. And there's just nothing you can do to deny this. In fact, why would you? Right? But okay, I just wanted to tell you, in my own little special way, that I really do miss being around you, hanging out with you, laughing with you, eating with you, annoying you (my *maaji* thing), cribbing to you, crying to you, calling you up to say nothing, I miss it all.
I fear losing the people I love, and the more I fear, the more it comes on me to prove itself. Every person that I've met randomly, in the most unexpected and unusual ways, has stayed with me. At least until today they have. So, you and I, two criminally normal people, who met at a juvenile center, who went on to be each other's Blue and Purple hearts, and who other people thought of as 'friendship goals', will hopefully stay too. *fingers crossed*
But do you know why I want you to stay? I've never said this to you before, but I think you deserve to know. I want you to stay because if someday I end up having a long list of sins in my name, I know you'll still be there, outside my college gates (yeah outside because you'll be too scared to walk in without an I-card), standing there with your helmet on (so nobody, at least from Navrang, can recognize you), waiting to hug me and say "Kandu, bahut bhook lagi hai, jaldi aa na". That's what I miss the most - your teddy bear hugs.
You really give me strength you know. Especially when you say that looking at me gives you strength. That's when I realize that if for nobody else, I can't let your hope down. I can't give up.
I miss being loved so hard, that you could almost turn lesbian. ๐ You might even doubt this, but yeah, I miss being made fun of (in the best way). I mean, who other than you both, would do that and get me to laugh too, especially with the kind of over attentive offensive nerves that I have? I miss bitching to you!! ๐ Yes, that even I never thought I would!! And sabse zyada, I miss making you cry by landing up at your home, when you'd least expect us to. But, aisa kaun karta hai yar?
Ashoka Garden, the little shady places around my college, the dhaba near yours, the staircase of your college, the backyard there, that little English Dept. room or NSS whatever it was, all our 'addas', do you go there still sometimes? I think of them and I smile. I loved that staircase place. Next time we hang out, that's where I wanna go. It somehow felt safe.
I wonder when I'm ever going to have such fun-filled days again, but I know it'll be soon. May not be soon enough, but I'm getting there - slowly.
Also, I'm sorry. For everything that I feel but don't say to you. For all the times when you cried, and I felt like it too, but I held myself back. You know why I did that right? Specially on the last few occasions? Most often than not, I'm just waiting for the right time. And I know that's no valid excuse for it, yet, I hope you're getting me.
I really love you.
More.
Morer.
Morest.
Forever.
Till Eternity.
๐๐
Purple Heart.
I miss you. And I miss you way more than you think I do. I just don't say it very often, but I do. And there's just nothing you can do to deny this. In fact, why would you? Right? But okay, I just wanted to tell you, in my own little special way, that I really do miss being around you, hanging out with you, laughing with you, eating with you, annoying you (my *maaji* thing), cribbing to you, crying to you, calling you up to say nothing, I miss it all.
I fear losing the people I love, and the more I fear, the more it comes on me to prove itself. Every person that I've met randomly, in the most unexpected and unusual ways, has stayed with me. At least until today they have. So, you and I, two criminally normal people, who met at a juvenile center, who went on to be each other's Blue and Purple hearts, and who other people thought of as 'friendship goals', will hopefully stay too. *fingers crossed*
But do you know why I want you to stay? I've never said this to you before, but I think you deserve to know. I want you to stay because if someday I end up having a long list of sins in my name, I know you'll still be there, outside my college gates (yeah outside because you'll be too scared to walk in without an I-card), standing there with your helmet on (so nobody, at least from Navrang, can recognize you), waiting to hug me and say "Kandu, bahut bhook lagi hai, jaldi aa na". That's what I miss the most - your teddy bear hugs.
You really give me strength you know. Especially when you say that looking at me gives you strength. That's when I realize that if for nobody else, I can't let your hope down. I can't give up.
I miss being loved so hard, that you could almost turn lesbian. ๐ You might even doubt this, but yeah, I miss being made fun of (in the best way). I mean, who other than you both, would do that and get me to laugh too, especially with the kind of over attentive offensive nerves that I have? I miss bitching to you!! ๐ Yes, that even I never thought I would!! And sabse zyada, I miss making you cry by landing up at your home, when you'd least expect us to. But, aisa kaun karta hai yar?
Ashoka Garden, the little shady places around my college, the dhaba near yours, the staircase of your college, the backyard there, that little English Dept. room or NSS whatever it was, all our 'addas', do you go there still sometimes? I think of them and I smile. I loved that staircase place. Next time we hang out, that's where I wanna go. It somehow felt safe.
I wonder when I'm ever going to have such fun-filled days again, but I know it'll be soon. May not be soon enough, but I'm getting there - slowly.
Also, I'm sorry. For everything that I feel but don't say to you. For all the times when you cried, and I felt like it too, but I held myself back. You know why I did that right? Specially on the last few occasions? Most often than not, I'm just waiting for the right time. And I know that's no valid excuse for it, yet, I hope you're getting me.
I really love you.
More.
Morer.
Morest.
Forever.
Till Eternity.
๐๐
Purple Heart.
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