It was 5 o'clock in the morning when he walked out of my house, and I was half hoping he would return to kiss me with the same passion he had when he’d just arrived. Every time we had tried to say goodbye, we had ended up in each other arms. Why was it so difficult? He wasn't the first man I had been attracted to. I wasn't the first woman he had been with. He wasn't my first kiss, and I wasn't his first fling. Then why couldn't we just let it go? It was not love, I knew, but nor was it lust. It was as though we were hanging somewhere in between. Bound by that connection, a relationship that was impossible to be labelled and a feeling impossible to name. This feeling that could stay for a while or maybe forever. This feeling that could be for someone you have known for years or someone you’ve just met. This weird feeling of knowing that you are not falling for someone, but rather falling with someone; even when both of you are aware that there is nobody to catch you.
What made last night so special was the fact that deep down, we both knew it was the last time. The last time that he was going to touch my skin and awaken a million butterflies in my stomach. The last time I was going keep my palm on his heart and make it skip a beat. The first time had it’s own charm, and we would never forget it. The emotions were running high and the passion had both of us sweating. But the last time, the realisation that it was the last time, made it so difficult. There were no emotions going wild, no cupid playing in our heads, but it was as if we had been pushed off the cliff, into an abyss that we couldn't fall further into but didn't want to get out of either. So we were both trying to fly in between, trying to keep our minds and hearts in place and that was the best part about us. We liked the thrill, the rush, the rawness, the feeling of risking it all.
What happened last night was as though a sudden flicker of light shot into the darkness to help us see each other, but deprive us of doing anything more. This light was there only to let us see chosen parts of ourselves and black out the rest. Last night, we completed each other. We finished those unfinished stories, we came to a full circle. And that is probably how it was meant to be. We were destined to add pieces to complete stories that had long been craving for fulfilment in our heads. Last night, we let go of everything that was holding us back, everything that wasn't letting us move forward, everything that wasn't in it’s place. We arranged the pieces of our jigsaw puzzles to get a final picture and when that was accomplished, we decided to toss it all out of the window. That was the beauty of it; this wasn't something easily available to us, it wasn't something we could feel and touch and see everyday. It was intangible, but it was also the answer to rows of sleepless nights and endless thoughts and useless emotions. It was our Ithaca.
We valued it, because you can start taking anything and anyone for granted when you know that they’re not going to leave, they are not going to disappear, they are not going to fade away. But if you know that you have just one chance - to touch someone’s life, only this once to fill the gaps, to give them everything you have and everything they need - you’d give your best shot.
Last night, we exhausted ourselves, we emptied our hearts and minds of every tiny detail that disturbed us, stopped us, disgusted us. We let the power of that one moment, burn us, extinguish us and then give to us; the chance to take another form, another birth, another life. We gave ourselves the chance to be whoever we wanted to be, because sometimes, just sometimes, you need to break yourself completely, so that you can create yourself all over again. Last night, we put down our weapons, we destroyed our pasts and we poured out everything we had ever held onto; all the half-finished sentences, half-written stories and all half-expressed emotions that we could never show to the ones we wanted to. We let ourselves be carried away with the wind and then just mix with the ground beneath us; mix and then cease to exist.
It was 5 o'clock in the morning when he walked out of my house, and I was half hoping he would return to kiss me with the same passion he had, when he’d just arrived. But I knew that he would not, and I knew that he should not, because when he walked out of my house this morning, he gave both of us a chance to rebuild ourselves, to start afresh. He gave both of us a chance to close the doors of the past. When he walked out of my house, he walked into his future, and I picked up the left over pieces to throw them out of the window and sleep peacefully, knowing that life was going to be alright.