Asghar Abbas's Blog - Posts Tagged "2024"
The Viktor Wynd Museum of Curiosities.
It wasn't ruinous. It was never that. This thing that was between us. This thing between us. When we faced each other every September. It was there. This film of a reason reducing the small space between us, inch by inch. It was always there. As pleasant as a knife. As heavy as a boulder. As temporary as a goodbye. As sharp as bonds squeezing out the last of blood between this relationship, wringing it out.
What was once between us, this thing that was once there between two of us, none of us, this thing of ours wasn't always so heavy. I'll admit it. It has always been foisted upon me, sure, but I'll admit even further, I let it fester. I stood by the door, opening it further, letting her in.
But this thing of ours, that we both had feasted on before letting it rot, this thing between us wasn't always like this. At the midnight of our mess, this mass is just so heavy.
This misshapen fallible bond of ours, fraught with so much misfortune, we festooned ourselves to it though we were never tied down to anything. It's not this ruinous thing that ruined this June.
Our thing, this ruinous thing between us, this resinous thing, this beautiful thing. That's not what ruined June. No, no. Not the lack of understanding or inconvenience. No, no, it's that very understanding ruined us. We did love one another, that much is true, too much sometimes, but we only loved each other when it was just inconvenient. Then we conveniently forgot that. No, no. It's all this understanding, doing us in. We understand ourselves better underwater. We understand all too well and not at all. It's that understanding that ruined June. What is this dross that's crumbling in my hand, it was once gold, you know. It was. Really. It really was. But now. Now, look what we have done, to each other and to ourselves. We are alone, we are our own buttress.
There is silence, here. There's silence here, too much. Sometimes there is too much silence here. There's silence everywhere. It's all around me. There's silence inside my house. There is silence outside my home. There is just too much silence. Inside my head and outside of my skull as well. There is too much silence in my mind, and I cannot make my mind silent. There is enough silence around me to let it just eat me. I'm going to let this silence eat me, hoping, in hopes that it'll eat my silence as well. In order for this silence to embrace me, I must embrace it as well. I'll let you hug me, devouring the silence. This silence eating me, it will devour the remnants of what I never had. Finishing up the remains of little of what was not left behind. This silence. Let me have it all, I want to keep it. I prefer it, it's all I have left in my heart.
I need my heart to live.
I do not wish for this silence. It's not the silence I want right now. But this silence is not telling me that I am beyond repair, beyond help. It's this silence that’s No One helping me. It's this silence that disgusts me.
Break. Break your own heart. Let it break. Let it hurt. Crack it wide open. Use all your fingers, especially the ones she liked, to pry open this prism as well. Open it up. Heal. Harden your heart, as well as other parts of you. Let it go. Be okay.
In the end, at the end of that ending, you are going to have to let it go.
My heart is breaking, because I'm letting it. My heart is gone.
That crack you are hearing is not that of the heart. That crack is of you going away and my leaving you. Hear that crack. It's the collective heartbreaking.
Why was it breaking you are not even asking. My anger became caustic too quickly, do you even know the cause of it? All we have is all we had and not much else. I'm readily holding onto that while you are hastily corrupting it, corrupting that dream. We are not even sleeping together but sharing that dream. I accept this silence now.
Because this silence is an absence but my own absence is the punishment. But who exactly is it punishing?
You are holding on too tightly. I can't even say my own name, like she would sometimes say her own stupidly, I don't know what it is anymore. My name means differently to different people and not at all to me. And if I have to hold on like this then it's not real. It hurts because that was the only thing that was real.
I am going to need you to do this for yourself. I'm going to do it for myself as well. I'm going to have to do this myself for myself. You are going to have to let it go, everything, let it all go. Let go of everything.
However, I have been refusing reality, resisting it because it's so hard; for I know for a very brief time, for half a lifetime, she wasn't special because she was all I had or I was all I she had. She was special because she was, that. She was just that. Special. But I'm letting that go now. Let it go.
I know that trust. What happened to our trust? Where has it gone off to? What has our trust evaporated into? I knew our molten trust. I know our trust. I know you know that too. That very trust.
I wish you'd see just how unique your mind is, just how rare you are. I want you to know that wherever we are, I have no problem following you anywhere. I'll quickly adjust to your narrative and make room for you. There is truly no one quite like you.
At this rock bottom, which is just not my own, at the end of this line, at the bottom of this, I know this. Ultimately. No one, no one person, not a single solitary person, is worth this much pain, too much. So much pain that it would require a factory resetting to make it all better in that valley. No one is worth altering your heart rate for. Even at that altar, that temple.
But your favorite person. When it's your perfect reflection that's been hurting you, squeezing your heart shut, it hits you different.
You were there through imperfections and you get abandoned so perfectly, it's perfect. Standing right next to this smashed-looking glass, you stand there with imperfections, and on the other side of that smooth surface, the other side is so perfectly oblivious it's perfect.
Something is amiss, really, there was. Until I caught that. We both operate with addled brains, and there is something fundamentally wrong with us, we were right about that. Neither one of us is sane, but when together we were quite normal, and apart, we are insane thinking the other is normal, that's the insanity here.
This? You want me to keep all of this alive? What's the point of this pointlessness? I thought through you I knew you and myself. I know you, I thought you knew that. You are gone now. You went so far away. I'm going even farther away from you, farther and farther away from this broken truth. You are so beautiful. But why keep that alive?
Furthermore, there is no further we can go from here. What are we, you and I, we are what we have always been. What we are now, we are peopleless people living different sorts of lives, we are the ones who are not here now is who we are now.
Outside of us, of our own selves, we are out of time, outside of this, we both saw the wider world out there, together but alone, without each other. Though we live temporary lives outside our own world, the world between us is anything but temporary. Though it was only that just that.
We gave up so much to feel something we weren't feeling but what we have been feeling the feeling we had, we’ll never give that up. We had given up so much of our world to feel newer things, to experience new feelings, both at the same time, we had given up so much to feel more, of us.
What we had between us was more than a feeling, it was a universe that was grateful, a grateful universe, that was gratefully just ours.
See, for the past couple of months, I like thinking about you, you see all the places I saw, and you are seeing, those places are not the ones that are pretty. I just cannot be the one who keeps hurting you. I destroyed my own heart so I wouldn't ruin myself for you. Forget you? I’ll keep on feeling that forever.
I'll keep what we have. If she's going to be a bricklayer of my ascent, then I must let her be. But I'll carry inside what we made of my room always with me. I’ll carry her inside me forever.
Do you hear that? Are you still listening to the song from September? That September is more beautiful than the beautiful one. Just. Can I ask one thing? One last thing before you go; one last time before I go. Why stay for those who left and not for the one who stayed?
One more time before we leave, please, please don't ask me to be real and desposses myself of you. I will do no such thing. I'll never let go and leave.
It's ok. It's ok. All this silence, golden, it's ok. You are Okay. It's going to be ok.
Not necessarily so. Certainly, it's not true. But I have been feeling quite dethroned, a pit of my own making, what of it. Turning slightly sideways, I can't help but look at it. At the whiteness of the white tub. Even though the never not so innocuous things we didn't do in our tub, my tub looks so innocent right now in the haze of absence. Even without any spare mermaids to drown that very tub, very white looks so empty. Sans all those mermaids, my tub looks so lonely, without the music of their screeching, what is there to listen to?
I get it now, what this book The Comet Seekers is about, and my understanding is as loud as your gasp of realization was of something I shouldn't have realized for I have only made a mess of things. Now look at this misshapen mess, how to get down and out of this mesa of peaked things. Look at all this beautiful blood and spilled ink. But I get it now, I understand what Comet Seekers is about.
Even before we had stood facing each other in the mossy dell in the forest amongst my favorite woods. I understood. Even before standing there slowly and gently removing the book jacket together, of the Comet Seekers, I understood. It wasn't about us seeking comets, no of course not, nor it’s about comets seeking us.
There is only a ghost of a reason between us separating us in our world. We are still standing before one another. Standing so close to this Comet, I know I'm only seeking you. I'm seeing you again. I see you. We’ll meet again soon? Looking at this Comet, I know, I'm coming to you. We only want mass extinction of ourselves. We are only interested in mutually reassured destruction.
I am not what you are doing to me. What you have been saying is not enough. If you want me to what? Leave you? Move on? Forget you? Then you are going to have to kill me. Because I'll never stop loving you. I'll never give you up. And I keep reading books that are not about us, not exactly, I keep finding them. And again and again, I keep coming across characters in those books who are not really us but shadows of us that won't stop chasing us until at last we find ourselves and each other again.
I have been writing, I have always been writing, what I have written, I have been writing way long before I ever met you, or knew you or even knew of you, you were you but I didn't know you. Do I know you now? I don't know. But I am writing, I know that. More so in your absence than in your presence, I am writing again. But in the past, I have lost words before, I lost words, I have lost entire worlds, I have lost you many times before, I lost words first, then I found them again albeit very slowly, then I lost both my words and you together. Now I have my words again. The only joy I get from life, my pathway to happiness I'd give them up to have you in my life again. My words or you? What to abandon? The choice is mine. So I would rather not. I rather not. I'll tell you this much though. All my words, everything I have written, wrote, or will write have led me to you. Where are you leading me now though?
It didn't happen suddenly, nor all of a sudden. This wreck of my mind. I have tried to overcome this addiction to that candy. I did. My best. Because you were my best. I know I'm not right. But I'm not wrong here either. Sometimes, I just wish. You liked me the way
I like you now.
All those decades burned away from us, and I couldn't escape the feeling that you have always loved me more than I loved you. But now I know you know I love you more than I have loved anything else. Why? You are still asking. You have made everything else real for me, and all my fantasies ensuing or otherwise ceased to be just my own. The world outside my head was just as beautiful as the inside was. I wouldn't have known this otherwise.
Even now, when I couldn't possibly love you more, even when I love you more than you love me, even so I feel you still love me more than I love you. It's in the action of your words, your perennial kindness, and the sway of your hips.
It's me, I'm the problem I know. I wish I knew how to love another person as well. I wish I knew how to love someone else now.
Listen. I love you. Listen. Do you hear that? I love you. Do you hear that crack? I love you. I know you love me too. I know you do. I love you. I'm telling you all that now in lieu of a farewell. I don't know how to say goodbye to you. It's you. How do I say goodbye to you? Everyone left me and I forgot them. I can't forget you because you never did. Leave me.
I love you so much.
But now we have lost each other over the absolute nothingness of nothing. I'm going to miss you, but you are going to miss me more. I’m still here. But you are gone. Now I'm gone, too. All I'm left with is That Feeling and I'm poorer for it
Yet in the brokenness of someone's heart, I know I'll see you again.
I just need to stop seeing you in my dreams first.
And
And
I'll look for you in fiction from now on. I keep finding you there anyway. And, and I'm there too.
Maybe in fiction, we'll do this right. That's the fantasy.
What was once between us, this thing that was once there between two of us, none of us, this thing of ours wasn't always so heavy. I'll admit it. It has always been foisted upon me, sure, but I'll admit even further, I let it fester. I stood by the door, opening it further, letting her in.
But this thing of ours, that we both had feasted on before letting it rot, this thing between us wasn't always like this. At the midnight of our mess, this mass is just so heavy.
This misshapen fallible bond of ours, fraught with so much misfortune, we festooned ourselves to it though we were never tied down to anything. It's not this ruinous thing that ruined this June.
Our thing, this ruinous thing between us, this resinous thing, this beautiful thing. That's not what ruined June. No, no. Not the lack of understanding or inconvenience. No, no, it's that very understanding ruined us. We did love one another, that much is true, too much sometimes, but we only loved each other when it was just inconvenient. Then we conveniently forgot that. No, no. It's all this understanding, doing us in. We understand ourselves better underwater. We understand all too well and not at all. It's that understanding that ruined June. What is this dross that's crumbling in my hand, it was once gold, you know. It was. Really. It really was. But now. Now, look what we have done, to each other and to ourselves. We are alone, we are our own buttress.
There is silence, here. There's silence here, too much. Sometimes there is too much silence here. There's silence everywhere. It's all around me. There's silence inside my house. There is silence outside my home. There is just too much silence. Inside my head and outside of my skull as well. There is too much silence in my mind, and I cannot make my mind silent. There is enough silence around me to let it just eat me. I'm going to let this silence eat me, hoping, in hopes that it'll eat my silence as well. In order for this silence to embrace me, I must embrace it as well. I'll let you hug me, devouring the silence. This silence eating me, it will devour the remnants of what I never had. Finishing up the remains of little of what was not left behind. This silence. Let me have it all, I want to keep it. I prefer it, it's all I have left in my heart.
I need my heart to live.
I do not wish for this silence. It's not the silence I want right now. But this silence is not telling me that I am beyond repair, beyond help. It's this silence that’s No One helping me. It's this silence that disgusts me.
Break. Break your own heart. Let it break. Let it hurt. Crack it wide open. Use all your fingers, especially the ones she liked, to pry open this prism as well. Open it up. Heal. Harden your heart, as well as other parts of you. Let it go. Be okay.
In the end, at the end of that ending, you are going to have to let it go.
My heart is breaking, because I'm letting it. My heart is gone.
That crack you are hearing is not that of the heart. That crack is of you going away and my leaving you. Hear that crack. It's the collective heartbreaking.
Why was it breaking you are not even asking. My anger became caustic too quickly, do you even know the cause of it? All we have is all we had and not much else. I'm readily holding onto that while you are hastily corrupting it, corrupting that dream. We are not even sleeping together but sharing that dream. I accept this silence now.
Because this silence is an absence but my own absence is the punishment. But who exactly is it punishing?
You are holding on too tightly. I can't even say my own name, like she would sometimes say her own stupidly, I don't know what it is anymore. My name means differently to different people and not at all to me. And if I have to hold on like this then it's not real. It hurts because that was the only thing that was real.
I am going to need you to do this for yourself. I'm going to do it for myself as well. I'm going to have to do this myself for myself. You are going to have to let it go, everything, let it all go. Let go of everything.
However, I have been refusing reality, resisting it because it's so hard; for I know for a very brief time, for half a lifetime, she wasn't special because she was all I had or I was all I she had. She was special because she was, that. She was just that. Special. But I'm letting that go now. Let it go.
I know that trust. What happened to our trust? Where has it gone off to? What has our trust evaporated into? I knew our molten trust. I know our trust. I know you know that too. That very trust.
I wish you'd see just how unique your mind is, just how rare you are. I want you to know that wherever we are, I have no problem following you anywhere. I'll quickly adjust to your narrative and make room for you. There is truly no one quite like you.
At this rock bottom, which is just not my own, at the end of this line, at the bottom of this, I know this. Ultimately. No one, no one person, not a single solitary person, is worth this much pain, too much. So much pain that it would require a factory resetting to make it all better in that valley. No one is worth altering your heart rate for. Even at that altar, that temple.
But your favorite person. When it's your perfect reflection that's been hurting you, squeezing your heart shut, it hits you different.
You were there through imperfections and you get abandoned so perfectly, it's perfect. Standing right next to this smashed-looking glass, you stand there with imperfections, and on the other side of that smooth surface, the other side is so perfectly oblivious it's perfect.
Something is amiss, really, there was. Until I caught that. We both operate with addled brains, and there is something fundamentally wrong with us, we were right about that. Neither one of us is sane, but when together we were quite normal, and apart, we are insane thinking the other is normal, that's the insanity here.
This? You want me to keep all of this alive? What's the point of this pointlessness? I thought through you I knew you and myself. I know you, I thought you knew that. You are gone now. You went so far away. I'm going even farther away from you, farther and farther away from this broken truth. You are so beautiful. But why keep that alive?
Furthermore, there is no further we can go from here. What are we, you and I, we are what we have always been. What we are now, we are peopleless people living different sorts of lives, we are the ones who are not here now is who we are now.
Outside of us, of our own selves, we are out of time, outside of this, we both saw the wider world out there, together but alone, without each other. Though we live temporary lives outside our own world, the world between us is anything but temporary. Though it was only that just that.
We gave up so much to feel something we weren't feeling but what we have been feeling the feeling we had, we’ll never give that up. We had given up so much of our world to feel newer things, to experience new feelings, both at the same time, we had given up so much to feel more, of us.
What we had between us was more than a feeling, it was a universe that was grateful, a grateful universe, that was gratefully just ours.
See, for the past couple of months, I like thinking about you, you see all the places I saw, and you are seeing, those places are not the ones that are pretty. I just cannot be the one who keeps hurting you. I destroyed my own heart so I wouldn't ruin myself for you. Forget you? I’ll keep on feeling that forever.
I'll keep what we have. If she's going to be a bricklayer of my ascent, then I must let her be. But I'll carry inside what we made of my room always with me. I’ll carry her inside me forever.
Do you hear that? Are you still listening to the song from September? That September is more beautiful than the beautiful one. Just. Can I ask one thing? One last thing before you go; one last time before I go. Why stay for those who left and not for the one who stayed?
One more time before we leave, please, please don't ask me to be real and desposses myself of you. I will do no such thing. I'll never let go and leave.
It's ok. It's ok. All this silence, golden, it's ok. You are Okay. It's going to be ok.
Not necessarily so. Certainly, it's not true. But I have been feeling quite dethroned, a pit of my own making, what of it. Turning slightly sideways, I can't help but look at it. At the whiteness of the white tub. Even though the never not so innocuous things we didn't do in our tub, my tub looks so innocent right now in the haze of absence. Even without any spare mermaids to drown that very tub, very white looks so empty. Sans all those mermaids, my tub looks so lonely, without the music of their screeching, what is there to listen to?
I get it now, what this book The Comet Seekers is about, and my understanding is as loud as your gasp of realization was of something I shouldn't have realized for I have only made a mess of things. Now look at this misshapen mess, how to get down and out of this mesa of peaked things. Look at all this beautiful blood and spilled ink. But I get it now, I understand what Comet Seekers is about.
Even before we had stood facing each other in the mossy dell in the forest amongst my favorite woods. I understood. Even before standing there slowly and gently removing the book jacket together, of the Comet Seekers, I understood. It wasn't about us seeking comets, no of course not, nor it’s about comets seeking us.
There is only a ghost of a reason between us separating us in our world. We are still standing before one another. Standing so close to this Comet, I know I'm only seeking you. I'm seeing you again. I see you. We’ll meet again soon? Looking at this Comet, I know, I'm coming to you. We only want mass extinction of ourselves. We are only interested in mutually reassured destruction.
I am not what you are doing to me. What you have been saying is not enough. If you want me to what? Leave you? Move on? Forget you? Then you are going to have to kill me. Because I'll never stop loving you. I'll never give you up. And I keep reading books that are not about us, not exactly, I keep finding them. And again and again, I keep coming across characters in those books who are not really us but shadows of us that won't stop chasing us until at last we find ourselves and each other again.
I have been writing, I have always been writing, what I have written, I have been writing way long before I ever met you, or knew you or even knew of you, you were you but I didn't know you. Do I know you now? I don't know. But I am writing, I know that. More so in your absence than in your presence, I am writing again. But in the past, I have lost words before, I lost words, I have lost entire worlds, I have lost you many times before, I lost words first, then I found them again albeit very slowly, then I lost both my words and you together. Now I have my words again. The only joy I get from life, my pathway to happiness I'd give them up to have you in my life again. My words or you? What to abandon? The choice is mine. So I would rather not. I rather not. I'll tell you this much though. All my words, everything I have written, wrote, or will write have led me to you. Where are you leading me now though?
It didn't happen suddenly, nor all of a sudden. This wreck of my mind. I have tried to overcome this addiction to that candy. I did. My best. Because you were my best. I know I'm not right. But I'm not wrong here either. Sometimes, I just wish. You liked me the way
I like you now.
All those decades burned away from us, and I couldn't escape the feeling that you have always loved me more than I loved you. But now I know you know I love you more than I have loved anything else. Why? You are still asking. You have made everything else real for me, and all my fantasies ensuing or otherwise ceased to be just my own. The world outside my head was just as beautiful as the inside was. I wouldn't have known this otherwise.
Even now, when I couldn't possibly love you more, even when I love you more than you love me, even so I feel you still love me more than I love you. It's in the action of your words, your perennial kindness, and the sway of your hips.
It's me, I'm the problem I know. I wish I knew how to love another person as well. I wish I knew how to love someone else now.
Listen. I love you. Listen. Do you hear that? I love you. Do you hear that crack? I love you. I know you love me too. I know you do. I love you. I'm telling you all that now in lieu of a farewell. I don't know how to say goodbye to you. It's you. How do I say goodbye to you? Everyone left me and I forgot them. I can't forget you because you never did. Leave me.
I love you so much.
But now we have lost each other over the absolute nothingness of nothing. I'm going to miss you, but you are going to miss me more. I’m still here. But you are gone. Now I'm gone, too. All I'm left with is That Feeling and I'm poorer for it
Yet in the brokenness of someone's heart, I know I'll see you again.
I just need to stop seeing you in my dreams first.
And
And
I'll look for you in fiction from now on. I keep finding you there anyway. And, and I'm there too.
Maybe in fiction, we'll do this right. That's the fantasy.
Book Jumpers.
19th November 2024
Kelowna, BC. 16th Nov.
Retelling.
To Javeria Abbas,
Rosenheim 2024.
Dear J;
I am writing this letter after talking to you for four straight hours, and that too, after a long, hard month. Coming off from talking to you, I am writing this in this way, so personally, in my horrible, horrible handwriting. Finally, I understand what you meant when you said you wanted a letter from me. See, after knowing you for so long and this intimately, I can still misknow you, hehe. But I get it now. So I am writing it how you wanted me to on 20th August. See, it took me a while. But I am finally writing you the letter you originally wanted, That Letter, this one. You know what? I was thinking about the LOVERS card and what you wrote in April. It is funny. How I am the WRITER, yet what you said there made me feel so much. You moved me then and now every time we have a spat (this last time is the final fight), I think back to that card, what you said in it, that I must keep that feeling alive and never give up or give up on you, give you up? Never and keep fighting.
For Us. So that's what I do when we fight: I keep fighting for us. I want to take this space to ask for your forgiveness, one last time, for hurting you. You have been my safest space, and by that I mean, I have been yours, safest space, and if you allow me to, I'll spend this remaining lifetime making you feel safe within that safe space again. I will make it up to you, I will, I will reforge your trust if you let me. I'll love you properly this time. I am so sorry for all the hurt, I am. You often call me your best friend, but I disagree with this term. What we are, best friends, does not even begin to cover it. What you are to me is my person, my favorite one. You'd often call me yours, that term I agree with. There is a point and a lesson here.
Before you, pre-2016, I had no real friends, so to speak, of course. Without you, I wouldn't even know what it is like to have a good friend in my life. What it meant. Someone who has your back at all times. Before you, I didn't know what friendship truly meant. You have been real and a dear friend. As your friend, I want to tell you this. I am going to be a bestselling author. But I am not doing it without you. You will be by my side, I'll have you by my side. You see, you see me. You make me feel seen. Doesn't matter what year, no matter. I am always happy thinking of you. Whenever I do think of you, and I do, it makes me happy, like there is a person who is there for me, my person, favorite one.
I draw strength from you, of you, from my relationship with you, of our trust, from it. You are like my superpower. Within that purple pulse, you are my power. So, I want to show you this. Oftentimes, I'd find myself in my woods, again and again, to be in them I consider it to be sacred, I am never scared there, but I do adore your BUTT, but standing amidst my trees, whispering my own words is my way of worshipping something. Only way I worship anything now. And saying your Name there in the woods is the closest I'll ever come to prayers again. When I see you again, I'll kiss you between your legs, saying your name. There will be my version of an acoustic prayer. I love you, still. You will always be that person who made me feel a little less afraid of the world.
I love that you showed me how not to live a limited life, not to limit myself, or to let others limit me in any way. And listen, 2019-2023 will always be more beautiful than this. Also, I am writing that other Letter, it's not about my writing, it's all about you, every word, just I have a lot to say about you. How can I not? As long as there is a YOU, there will be a ME.
ASGHAR ABBAS
2024. November. 20th.
My room here
Canada round 2.
P.S. You were right, you know, I never should have let you walk away from my life. I should never have let you go to Germany. Now I must mourn the loss of your presence. Loss of your tangibility is something I'll mourn until there is nothing left to be mourned on this earth.
P.P.S I have always wanted more. I want it all. I want everything. I want more. With you, for a little while, it seemed like I could have had it all; it feels that way, because with you, I did have it, ALL. Without you, what is there to have? And Now? Now I am listing in this lake, in this shipless ocean, I am awaiting to mount a ship to take me home. But will it bring me home?
My home is not a home without you because you were my home, and you are no longer home; no place is home without you. You are not there; without you, there is nothing planetary about this planet anymore. What is the purpose of being on this planet when we are not on similar planes anymore? What's the point of sharing a singular planet when we cannot share each other's lives now, you tell me!
Things are bad right now, everything, not between us, but in general and overall. But I think I have kept my promise to myself, just as you have kept my words, all of them. I loved you, here, in all the places I didn't think of you before. I don't know why that was last year. When you have always been so familiar, you have been my familiar. I recognize you from everywhere. I know you from every timeline, every single one. It's just that we messed this one up; we made a mess of things in this timeline.
This is why I can't let you let me go, why we can't let go of each other. I am walking in my woods now, as I walk in my woods in search of something, I am aware that the Witch I love, want, and need is not there. The witch I am looking for is not in my woods. Where is she? I don't even know. I thought of something else, thinking about that. It has been so long since I have actually loved a mermaid.
When you were with me, I never had to think about the things I like. Your presence was a constant reminder of everything I liked because everything about you is what I liked. I don't know much, but I know this. I'll see you soon, so see you. I'll see you after the jump. Let's just match cut our scenes and match them now, and jump cut to when we are in one place again, when you are here and I am there, and we are finally together again.
When we are in Europe, Kelowna, and more importantly, Karachi. I am in Canada right now, for now, in this Okanagan region, in beautiful British Columbia, but what we had in Pakistan will always be much more beautiful. As I was trying to get it out, I became familiar with our story; it has no end, so I will never finish telling it, for I know our storied Story will never be over.
Broken Time Machine.
Busted up Delorean.
Fractured Timeline.
We are out of time.
Finally and Forever.
Kelowna, BC. 16th Nov.
Retelling.
To Javeria Abbas,
Rosenheim 2024.
Dear J;
I am writing this letter after talking to you for four straight hours, and that too, after a long, hard month. Coming off from talking to you, I am writing this in this way, so personally, in my horrible, horrible handwriting. Finally, I understand what you meant when you said you wanted a letter from me. See, after knowing you for so long and this intimately, I can still misknow you, hehe. But I get it now. So I am writing it how you wanted me to on 20th August. See, it took me a while. But I am finally writing you the letter you originally wanted, That Letter, this one. You know what? I was thinking about the LOVERS card and what you wrote in April. It is funny. How I am the WRITER, yet what you said there made me feel so much. You moved me then and now every time we have a spat (this last time is the final fight), I think back to that card, what you said in it, that I must keep that feeling alive and never give up or give up on you, give you up? Never and keep fighting.
For Us. So that's what I do when we fight: I keep fighting for us. I want to take this space to ask for your forgiveness, one last time, for hurting you. You have been my safest space, and by that I mean, I have been yours, safest space, and if you allow me to, I'll spend this remaining lifetime making you feel safe within that safe space again. I will make it up to you, I will, I will reforge your trust if you let me. I'll love you properly this time. I am so sorry for all the hurt, I am. You often call me your best friend, but I disagree with this term. What we are, best friends, does not even begin to cover it. What you are to me is my person, my favorite one. You'd often call me yours, that term I agree with. There is a point and a lesson here.
Before you, pre-2016, I had no real friends, so to speak, of course. Without you, I wouldn't even know what it is like to have a good friend in my life. What it meant. Someone who has your back at all times. Before you, I didn't know what friendship truly meant. You have been real and a dear friend. As your friend, I want to tell you this. I am going to be a bestselling author. But I am not doing it without you. You will be by my side, I'll have you by my side. You see, you see me. You make me feel seen. Doesn't matter what year, no matter. I am always happy thinking of you. Whenever I do think of you, and I do, it makes me happy, like there is a person who is there for me, my person, favorite one.
I draw strength from you, of you, from my relationship with you, of our trust, from it. You are like my superpower. Within that purple pulse, you are my power. So, I want to show you this. Oftentimes, I'd find myself in my woods, again and again, to be in them I consider it to be sacred, I am never scared there, but I do adore your BUTT, but standing amidst my trees, whispering my own words is my way of worshipping something. Only way I worship anything now. And saying your Name there in the woods is the closest I'll ever come to prayers again. When I see you again, I'll kiss you between your legs, saying your name. There will be my version of an acoustic prayer. I love you, still. You will always be that person who made me feel a little less afraid of the world.
I love that you showed me how not to live a limited life, not to limit myself, or to let others limit me in any way. And listen, 2019-2023 will always be more beautiful than this. Also, I am writing that other Letter, it's not about my writing, it's all about you, every word, just I have a lot to say about you. How can I not? As long as there is a YOU, there will be a ME.
ASGHAR ABBAS
2024. November. 20th.
My room here
Canada round 2.
P.S. You were right, you know, I never should have let you walk away from my life. I should never have let you go to Germany. Now I must mourn the loss of your presence. Loss of your tangibility is something I'll mourn until there is nothing left to be mourned on this earth.
P.P.S I have always wanted more. I want it all. I want everything. I want more. With you, for a little while, it seemed like I could have had it all; it feels that way, because with you, I did have it, ALL. Without you, what is there to have? And Now? Now I am listing in this lake, in this shipless ocean, I am awaiting to mount a ship to take me home. But will it bring me home?
My home is not a home without you because you were my home, and you are no longer home; no place is home without you. You are not there; without you, there is nothing planetary about this planet anymore. What is the purpose of being on this planet when we are not on similar planes anymore? What's the point of sharing a singular planet when we cannot share each other's lives now, you tell me!
Things are bad right now, everything, not between us, but in general and overall. But I think I have kept my promise to myself, just as you have kept my words, all of them. I loved you, here, in all the places I didn't think of you before. I don't know why that was last year. When you have always been so familiar, you have been my familiar. I recognize you from everywhere. I know you from every timeline, every single one. It's just that we messed this one up; we made a mess of things in this timeline.
This is why I can't let you let me go, why we can't let go of each other. I am walking in my woods now, as I walk in my woods in search of something, I am aware that the Witch I love, want, and need is not there. The witch I am looking for is not in my woods. Where is she? I don't even know. I thought of something else, thinking about that. It has been so long since I have actually loved a mermaid.
When you were with me, I never had to think about the things I like. Your presence was a constant reminder of everything I liked because everything about you is what I liked. I don't know much, but I know this. I'll see you soon, so see you. I'll see you after the jump. Let's just match cut our scenes and match them now, and jump cut to when we are in one place again, when you are here and I am there, and we are finally together again.
When we are in Europe, Kelowna, and more importantly, Karachi. I am in Canada right now, for now, in this Okanagan region, in beautiful British Columbia, but what we had in Pakistan will always be much more beautiful. As I was trying to get it out, I became familiar with our story; it has no end, so I will never finish telling it, for I know our storied Story will never be over.
Broken Time Machine.
Busted up Delorean.
Fractured Timeline.
We are out of time.
Finally and Forever.
