The boy who breathes sunsets

My dear friend,

Someday, a few days, weeks, months, years later, when I lose parts of myself and you, I want you to read this. I want this to remind you of what I once found. Everyone around me, all my life, asked me to contain myself and be someone. Someone who wants more, someone who fights her instincts, or someone who wants to be loved. It was as if I was being picked up by random strangers, confided and shut in the box of life. They told me that was life. They convinced me that being someone holds so much ground that even if I were to lose myself in the process, it would seem right. And in this vicarious loop of supposedly successful whatnot, I held the scattered bits and pieces of my leftover dignity and never let them go. And what came next, well, you know how it went.

And then, some fortunate-unfortunate day, I saw you, a few feet apart, smiling and waiving with the brightest smile and the shiniest eyes. I never knew a smile could do that to you, four added inches, two on the left and two on the right. No matter how deep inside the dark hole you are in, everything will brighten up and lead you straight to someplace not so dark. And that's how we met. It's weird how little things in life never feel special while you live them, but it makes a lot of sense when you look back and realize it was meant to happen. You were meant to happen. And I was meant to find myself. And everything else is just a happy history. They say endings are more beautiful than beginnings; I no longer believe that. Try looking at a newborn baby and a dying old man, and you'll see. You'll see how everything in between changes you, takes everything away, and leaves you with nothingness. I am a sucker for the in-betweens. And for me, the in-between I had with you will always be a part of who I am and the wonderful life I will lead.

They say you are perfect. They say you are happy. They say you are flawless. You and I know that you are not. They fail to understand that smiling isn't synonymous with happiness and being effortless doesn't mean you do not have no flaws. You choose to hide all of yourself in the stories you tell, the smiles you spread, and the jokes you make up, but that's not all you are. You are so much more than you let on; you are a human too. And humans do feel things and holding a hand sometimes will not say anything about you. It won't mean you are too weak to gather yourself or are any more breakable than any of us. Do not guard yourself, my love. Do not try to strongarm yourself against the very beautiful feelings that life puts in your way.

Maybe what everyone loves about you is that they can be unapologetically themselves around you, and you exist in the sweet nothings. But do you? Are you really what you are around everyone, or are you what you are when no one is around. I can talk all I want in maybes', but only you know for sure and you have all the rights in the world to choose who you want to be and who you want them to see. But I want you to ask yourself if it holds so much importance that you'd change yourself just because you are scared to open up like everyone else. Being a human is not a weakness; it is the most powerful of all things we know. And feeling something completely and wholly only makes you better at it. But no matter what I say, you will always be this built-walls-around-asshole that you are, yet beautiful.

I am grateful to have met you, known you, been with you, smiled with you, laughed my heart out with you, and done all the possible bullshits I never knew I could do. The guy who cherished the sky but breathes for sunsets will always be the guy who gave me a shoulder to cry on, who put a dozen smiles on my face when it seemed almost impossible. And yes, you are beautiful. Very.

I'll leave you with this today: "आसमान से जब उतरोगे कभी, तो देखोगे ज़मीन पर इंसान और भी खूबसूरत हो जाता है। "

कभी किसी खत में फिर मुलाकात होगी। 

Yours

Halleluja