The Push

Everyone has their own person.

In the morning, you first stir to the ping of their message. Their messages somehow make morning, noon, evening, night...everything auspicious!

What happened in the morning, what they ate for lunch, what occurred at night—all of it must be told to that person, like a ritual! Even plain rice shared is far more delicious than biryani eaten alone.

All day long, like a clock trapped in a room, one person becomes the important calendar of someone's life. Happiness is measured by routine and doubled when shared with them, while sorrows are halved after being divided. It's better to be sad with someone than to be happy alone.

All the nonsensical and useless piles of words accumulate just to tell that person. All the adult jokes and meaningless memes...they're sent to them first, or only to them. We want to send so many things, but where is the person to send them to!

What happened all day today, what will happen all day tomorrow—it all accumulates in the chest, waiting to be told to that person.

That person becomes the daily diary.

An unwritten household, an anonymous domesticity. This is how days pass, day after day.

Then one day...

Then one day something happens, dark black stains appear on the deep blue of the sky.

Words gradually vanish from the pages of the diary that had become daily habit.
Suddenly, somehow, that person changes.

The shoulder you leaned against suddenly moves away. This sudden withdrawal yanks hard at the head that was resting there. The head dangles in empty space.

We lose all direction, frantically search for that shoulder, thoroughly hunt through the diary pages. Yet somehow no one is anywhere.

Our lives become unbearable trying to cope with the shock of losing that person who had become habit. Without them, morning won't bloom, afternoon won't pass, night won't end. Every moment, that person clings like a shadow to every inch of the mind. They can't be removed, can't be forgotten, yet can't be found again like before.

What could be more painful than constantly searching for someone who can never be found!

We won't work out, our families won't accept us...under such excuses, some fresh emotions get buried, die, rot, and decay. This way, one day we forget how to laugh, forget how to cry. Not everyone lives; for some, only their lifespan runs out.

Some people—they're not people, they're fresh emotions.

Yet eventually we learn to live without them. Then no one else can ever get entangled in our lives as such an intense emotion. Even if someone truly wants to come, wants to love deeply, we simply cannot accept them from within. People can be found everywhere, but finding someone you can truly trust is very difficult.

This way, one day that person...the person who said "It's not possible to be with you!" on some long-ago afternoon and left...steals away all our happiness, well-being, and joy. We never laugh from within a second time, never dare to think about anyone else again.

This way, one day, the very people who made us happy become the reason for our happiness being stolen. When happiness goes, happiness can be found again, but when the person who gave happiness leaves, both happiness and the person are lost.