Inside.

"We do not talk anymore. And I've forgotten the way your back curves. How are we supposed to know each other, now?" 

-Another Way To Avoid Reality 

All night, I was thinking about whether I should share my personal life on here. To be frank, I have followers who know me personally, and I'm not sure how much I would like them to know about me, without them confronting me. But then again, I have a feeling they won't. That they'll read this blog, and act normal towards me. And if they are reading this, let it be known that that's how I want it to be. It's so different and a pleasant change when people aren't asking you what's wrong, what happened. I like sharing, but only to vent and to make sense of what I feel. Not for attention or for questions. Writing does that to you.

Being an emotional person does not mean that you cry at every sensitive thing.It could also mean that you feel too deeply and too strongly for something, but you don't spill tears for it. That's me. In recent months, I've tried to suppress it, tried to stamp it out of me. By not addressing how I feel about situations, and only analyzing what's in front of me. I stopped thinking too much about everything, stopped trying to find meaning in it all. Just talking about it is not enough to tell you what REALLY happened. Changing yourself is a really big deal. Changing the way you think is actually struggling. No matter which way you change, for better or for worse. I stopped being me, and even though it fixed a lot of matters, I wasn't me anymore. And I knew it. So I wanted out.

I've decided to share as much as I possible can, meaning that whatever I feel like I should, or whatever I want to.

I changed ever since H went back to America. Everytime he goes there, it's like a switch. He changes. Not going into details, I decided to pull a switch of my own. I didn't want to give too much anymore. In fact, I didn't want to give anything anymore. I didn't want to invest in something that I couldn't put a stamp on, to guarantee. The decision was a simple one, and I worked towards it. I told myself that I'd be that way- nonchalant, changing priorities, not giving it all- only until he realized it and wanted the old me back. This wasn't a game that I was playing; I was just sick of freeing up my own time at the expense of my family and friends, just to find out that he couldn't free up his own time for me like I could for him. It was a change that involved ego n my part as well. I didn't want to feel like I was losing dignity.

He noticed, he wanted the old me back. But I couldn't. I honestly tried, but some self-defence mechanism in me prevented me from opening up again. I can't explain it, but things were harder to say, meetings were harder to plan. There used to be a time where there was nothing I wouldn't do for him. And now I can barly think of a few things I can.

It's weird how people only assume that a relationship ends with a bang. With fights, screaming, she cheated on him, he did something she didn't like. It's more common in Pakistan, as far as I've seen (my own opinion). There are tears, tissues, memories, and lost love. And then you pick up the pieces and move on. I say it's weird, because 1. Me and H haven;t broken up yet, and 2. We haven;t done anything to make us break up.

It's the strangest thing. We don't fight, at all. Maybe because we don't have time for fighting. Ever since he came back from the States, I decided to reorganize my priorities. Spend more time with my friends, my college, my studies. Put my family first. Put him in the back seat, like he did to me when he had family and work to take care of. The relationship is still here, it's still working, we still talk at night- but we've drifted apart. I don't know who I'm talking to sometimes, because I don't remember him. I don't remember how he used to be, or the time we spent together.

We're both alive, healthy, and working. We have celebrations, we have deaths, we have schedules. And slowly, we've written ourselves out of each other's lives, without meaning to.

It feels strange, like I have a relationship with a phone. Relationships are built with love and maintained with time. And we both don't have time. Strange once again, because I know that if I tried, I could make time for him Call it a talent, but I can multi-task fairly well. Friends, family, religion, H, studies. My favorite thing to do is ponder on how I can balance all of this. I would love to. I just don't want to anymore. Why should I put so much effort into this when he can't/won't?

I don't know where this is all going to lead. Maybe we might not be together. I know one thing though. Not to sound like a completely hopeless romantic, but everytime I see him again, everything is pushed aside, and I remember US. Who we are, who we were. But that changes as soon as I remember that he could leave any second, because his family needs him day or night, or a friends needs him. And we have to stop the meeting. It would make me cry earlier, to think that he chose his friends over me. Now, I just think about what I'll do when he drops me home.

"We just let ourselves fall apart. We didn't try to hold it at the seams, we watched ourselves distance, emotionally, mentally. I don't know about you, but I had the stamina to make this better. To call you as much as I could, even while being in another city, or being busy with friends. I just didn't want to anymore. I saw that you let everything go, so why couldn't I? Just make other things a higher priority than you and my feelings for you. Make it so often that the line blurs and you think you still have each other on the highest priority, but you don't, not at all. It's denial and lying to yourself, because you don't have time to think about priorities, life just happens and you take it as it comes. We don't see it, because we don't want to see it. We want to believe everything is okay. Training. Even now, after things have settled into this groove, I still am not ready to give you everything all over again. I still double check on whether I should send you a text or not.

Meetings are not as important as they used to be. The terrace climbing is a memory. And we act like strangers together."

This matter should be addressed as soon as possible, I know. Call it cowardice that I'm not doing so, that I want to keep on holding on to this. I don't know. I'm not sure about it anymore. But I'll keep writing until I am.