Celebrating your absence

You went away but forgot to take away your backpack of sweet memories….

Your love is like- : Like a sweet slumber after a really tiresome day, like a small moment when you are lying on the bed awake and suddenly you fall asleep without knowing when you sleep. Your love is like the moment that separates conscious and the unconscious, while you are about to sleep…so precious, so magical. The feeling of being unconscious of the world because you are present and all other is absent in mind. It is like the moment when you occupy my mind and mind thinks nothing else than you, the most cherish-able moment and when I am suddenly conscious, the feeling of shyness that I am thinking about you all the time. This fills the vacant, truly. Your love is like the feeling which arises when you put on your summer clothes saying good bye to the big jackets, overcoats, socks, mufflers and many more woolen stuffs. It is a like the feeling of freedom, the cool breeze that hits you right in the face. Your love is again like the feeling of warmth, when your legs are shaking because of cold and you put on everything that makes you warm. Your love is this feeling of warmth in every part of the body and heart especially. Your love changes time and again. But I am in love with this change in your love. Each moment is different, each feeling is different, each change is precious, and thus I love it more and more. Your love is like the feeling while eating tasty veg- momo and Fanta. The yummy feeling, the saliva coming out off god knows where ~when you look at the plate full of momo. Your love is like the sweet song that is in your computer since so long and you suddenly come across it and then you enjoy listening. This enjoyment is your love. Your love is like walking up numerous stairs and the feeling of sigh that you have finally reached atop. This enjoyment is your love. Your love is like the feeling of success when you finish reading a fat novel. Your love is like the confidence to give exam that has been acquired after studying a lot. Your love is like the feeling when you buy a dress or a shoe that suits you the most. Your love is like the feeling of unwrapping of the gift box and you suddenly find a pink doll and an eyeshadow. Your love is like pain-killer that you take when a part of body is in great pain and the pain suddenly vanishes when you take it. Your love is like the first rain in April that brings you a feeling of coolness. Your love is like the rain in November, that chills your bones and yet give you the superb feeling. Your love is like swinging in the Dashain Swing. Your love is like flying kite. Your love is like the rainbow seen suddenly, so colorful, terribly wonderful. Your love is like the (Full) FooL-MooN that strive hard changing shapes day to day to be in a full shape for a single day and then the next day again reduced to the zero size. But for the single day every month it shines lighting up the whole sky. The more I write, the more I can write…..your love is every where…

And your love is like a dream, which collapses every morning when one wakes.

And then you are gone with vows that you will never meet me again ever in life. People go away promising to come back again, but you promised that you will never ever return. When you went away, you left a completely vacant space. Tough! Definitely it was tough for me to realize it. People come and people go, this is the way world is. I don’t mind it at all “Now”. I celebrate the vacant now, fulfilling it by the happiness, by sweet feelings and after all happiness matters, either it is past or present. It is not that without you I am so sad and tragic that I am losing my mind and strength and I want you desperately back knowing it being impossible. I have learned how to be happy, to remain happy and to make others happy. After all I know that the vacant remains always vacant and if I have to live with vacant then why to suffer time and again and die minutes by minutes? Why not celebrate it? Why not fill the vacant with memories? Why not fill vacant with happiness? The more you were torturing me, I was torturing myself more. I love myself more. I can’t torture myself more. I can’t.

I want to live…and thus I live everyday by opening and closing your backpack, everyday something is there to make me happy and celebrate the vacant 🙂 🙂 🙂

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One Response

  1. Happy ending… 1st part chai alik boring bho…. your love is like “”, “” le gardaa…. 2nd para ma feri majaa aayo…. kip up writing

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