My mind is unsettled today. Thoughts spring up like weeds but none take root. There’s a certain numbness, a certain sense of suffocation. Can loneliness be suffocating? Can one be lonely when not alone?
I live with my family, I breakfasted with a friend. I’m not alone. But I’m so lonely.
I crave for his company, for his warmth, for the humour in his smile. And I worry, I worry incessantly.
I worry about his safety. The recent wave of terror in his hometown Lahore has me worried for him, for his family, and for us. The shadow of fear in his usually carefree smile worries me. He’s scared but too proud, too noble to share it, even with me.
I worry about our plans, about graduate school, about migrating, about the logistics of finding each other again. There are a million things I worry about.
I worry about a million things, but I do not worry about our love.
Our love represents the overcoming of some incredible odds. Opposing us are our own countries, two countries that have been at war for seven decades, are our sects which have been at odds for decades. Opposing us is the prejudice of our own families, our societies the cultures we come from, opposing us are money, race, wealth, appearance and really every material thing that you can think of.
But I don’t worry about that. Because we will endure.
All I worry about is how I’m going to pass time until the day I get to wrap my arms around you once again.
Until then I roam the arid desert that you’ve left me in, eviscerated, with nought but a dull ache where my heart used to be.