Before I continue to delve into the current status of my personal life, reader, I want to give you a brief history so you can set the stage and have a better understanding of why I am the way I am.
I used to believe that in life you had one big love. You know – that one person who made you feel more than you’ve ever felt. That one person who made you feel your highest. I used to believe all these things like the gospel truth. Can you blame me? I grew up watching Bollywood movies. I dreamt of the day Raj i.e. Shah Rukh Khan would show up and sweep me off my feet, and carry me into the fading screen. The credits would roll, the line “Someone Somewhere Is Made For You” would appear on the screen, and we would live happily ever after.
Unfortunately, these fairytale fantasies don’t ever happen to real people. Real people get hurt; they get hurt badly and then they wander the streets of let says New York City, tainted, hurting other people. The cycle goes on and on.
My name is Dil, and I am a tainted person.
I dated Suraj* for three years – to me, he was the tops. He was the bees knees. When I saw him walking down the street, I heard flutes and violins. Suraj made me feel like I was the luckiest girl in the world. Suraj, as I found out, was also cheating on me. Cue deathly sadness followed by months of self-deprecating humor and the consumption of cheesecake in massive quantities.
The last correspondence we exchanged was through email. I felt the need to address the situation and gain closure.
I hope this email finds you well. It has been almost two weeks since our fight – and it has given me time to think as to just what happened that night. I am not writing this email to re-hash the events of that night, what is done is done. But I do want you to know that I have no ill feelings toward you. I apologize if anything I had said or done that night hurt you, it was never my intention.
For what it is worth, I want you to know that I did love you deeply and I am sad that we could not make us work. But, I wish you well and hope one day you find someone who truly understands your needs.
Maybe someday we can be friends but until then good luck with things.
P.S – if you haven’t already – you may throw my things out.
Hope this finds you well too. I am also sorry and have no ill feelings toward you either and hope you are doing well. I wish you a great future and hope your dreams and goals come true because you deserve it. Good luck with work and upcoming school.
P.S If I left my suit there could you ship it to me thanks. 4XX-XX, XXX, 11XX, NX”
I never shipped him the suit. I sold it to a secondhand store in the East Village; then I used the money to get a massage, a bottle of wine, and Adele’s latest CD, which kept me company as I cried the night away, in the fetal position, on the bathroom floor.
What is the point of this sad story, you ask? Simple: CLOSURE is a seven-letter word that means nothing. Never in the history of man has the closure conversation resulted in a better breakup. I should have just let it go and let myself been comforted with my fantasy of him crying in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, distraught over losing me. Instead, by reaching out to him, I only verified that sneaking suspicion that he was over me – that he had been over me for a long time and was just going through the motions toward the end of our relationship.
What’s that terrible saying? Let sleeping dogs lie.
Read the Chronicles of a Brown Girl Series