All my life, I’ve looked forward to a lot of things, but a month has never been one of them. This year, as soon as it begun, I wished it to be February, just so I could breathe in relief that despite the pain and the heartache, I could say that I survived January. Am I making any sense? No, probably not.
As soon as February began, I was struck with an irrational fear that it might be as bad as January, if not worse. The fairies of February however, didn’t let me down and have made it their mission to heal all the wounds that the heartache of January caused. And while I still hear his voice often, itch to call him oftener, and find things to tell him/mail him about every other minute, the screaming pain has stopped, and so have the aches, and I wake up every morning, looking forward to things. Little things that make up my world. I look forward to my morning coffee, my evening chai, to diaryface and SS in my inbox, to the beach, to my notebooks, to London, to the comfort of old friends who sit on my bedroom floor, drink tea and tell me tirelessly, that I will be okay.
February has made me grateful for a lot of things.
It has made me grateful that I still have my SS, grateful that she stuck and told me tirelessly that she loved me, despite me blocking her out and trying to escape her for hurting me. I am still hurt, but I have never been able to block her out for long. She became a lifelong part of me, from the first day we spoke, 4 years ago. I can block her out all I want, but she is inside me, all the time, warming and comforting me, even when she has hurt me from the outside.
It has made me grateful for my Diaryface, whose mails I read everyday, and wonder every single day, “How did I get by for so long in life without her?” Without ever having spoken to her or met her, she was one of the pillars holding me up when I fell and one of the pillars that rejoiced when I stood up again. Without having met or spoken to her, she has become one of the most important parts of my life, and my day feels incomplete without her.
I am grateful for my Ms R. who sat with me, on my bedroom floor, in perfect yayness and drank cup after cup of tea and told me I deserved more, I deserved better, and that the “More & Better” was waiting somewhere in life with my name on it. It might be in London, it might be in getting published, it might be with a someone, but it is there. Only friends like her, will get angry and hurt on your behalf, and will spend hours trying to heal the heartache, which she did. In her beautifully perfect Ms R, way.
I am grateful for Tejas Denzel Kong, for telling me I was an idiot for thinking that anything between us had changed. And for the pang I felt when he asked me, “Man, who will you talk to, if not to me?” I still have my “fraand” and when I talk to him, it’s like nothing has changed. We talk about the same stuff we always did, in the same brand of nonsense we always had, and whenever I think of him, its in a whoosh of relief that he is there.
I am grateful for Uzi, and how our friendship seems to have picked up where we left it, 5-6 years ago. We have progressed beyond throwing notes at each other across a French classroom, and now spend perfect moments drinking too much caffeine, inhaling too much nicotine and walking across the city. He will listen for hours, while I dissect my heartache in front of him, and will tell me tirelessly, that I will be okay.
I am grateful for Isha, for how our friendship hasn’t changed in all these years, and she is still my perfect Isha from high school, only better. Somehow and creepily, she knows, when my worst days are my worst days, and will take me to the beach, will take me out for coffee, or will just sit and fill my room with her special Isha glow and tell me relentlessly, that my future is a bright and wonderful place, and that there are bright and wonderful things to look forward to.
I am grateful for MommyMathews, who has never complained once. Not at all the time Ive spent out of the house in an attempt to heal, not all the mood swings and the coldness and the crankiness. She never complains, but holds and cuddles in that way that all Mommy’s can. She doesn’t need to say that it’ll all be okay. Her arms convey everything, and they are the safest place in the world.
I have a lot of things to be grateful for. And February is one of them.