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The Relentless Truth

The Art of Unloving

By Naveed Published 4 months ago 3 min read
9
The Relentless Truth
Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

Life unfolds as a succession of closing doors, a relentless truth that I've come to accept.

Ironically, amid those who attempted to impart the art of love, I found myself grappling with the intricate choreography of unloving. It wasn't about forgetting; it was about prying my affections from the things, places, and people that had woven themselves into the fabric of my heart. The hardest part, it turns out, was relinquishing that 'sense of loss' for what I believed was 'already mine.' I had clung to these attachments as if they defined me, unwilling to admit their futility. I drifted back into the illusion of normalcy, reluctant to confront the inevitable finiteness.

Such is life; it often demands time to unveil its teachings. In solitude, I navigated through tumultuous times, tirelessly trying to mend what might have been broken beyond repair. One careless word from a stranger could keep me awake, torn between the desire to be loved and my penchant for self-loathing.

Then came a moment when I was forewarned, labeled as 'a replacer,' and presented with the choice to stay or depart. I chose to remain, even though I knew it was but a transient interlude.

During this interlude, I basked in the warmth of love and happiness. It was easy to surrender to the enchantment of the moment, yet I constantly reminded myself that I wasn't entirely ensnared in the cocoon of comfort. Nonetheless, it eventually unraveled.

The day of farewell arrived, and the comfort transformed into anxiety. Love became an arduous bridge to sincerity, and the happiness I had once known now haunted me, months later. I remained ensnared in profound affection and a sense of belonging, even though I understood the futility of such desires. I yearned for their company to extend indefinitely.

Still, life remained steadfast in closing its doors. It coerced me into performing the facade of 'being okay' when I longed for a helping hand. It compelled me to feign self-sufficiency when the burdens were too weighty to bear alone. It urged me to act as if I knew how to conceal my disappointment when in reality, I was clueless about camouflaging those emotions.

Numerous beautiful moments shared with them met a premature demise.

Yet, here I stand today. I have mastered the art of unloving, and I have learned to be genuine in my emotions. Time has set a boundary for me. I treasure the moments of today and hold unwavering faith that my sorrow will eventually dissipate. As I pen this letter, I do so with a smile and a sense of pride because I have finally liberated myself to progress to the next chapter of my life.

I want to just say, "Thank you," if you are still reading so... Thank you. I know this is kind of rambling at this point. It means a lot if you are willing to read this and maybe even some of my other pieces, especially the ones that I ended up linking in this piece. I want to add an even bigger thank you to some of my friends that write on Vocal and read (and sometimes heart) my pieces. It means so much to me.

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RomanceSelf-help
9

About the Creator

Naveed

Let me submit, writing and solitude are essential. Writing is not possible in Mahfil Yaran. Why a person writes, how he writes, why he thinks, nothing can be said with certainty.

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Comments (7)

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  • Alison McBain2 months ago

    Very relatable. It’s always hard to let go.

  • Sam Hamilton3 months ago

    Relatable ❤️

  • Arslan4 months ago

    Awesome brother

  • Harinder Singh4 months ago

    Pleasant article, appreciate you sharing it.

  • Andrew C McDonald4 months ago

    It is indeed difficult to accept that those for whom you care can drift apart in life’s vicissitudes. I can empathize with this story and I ‘grok’ as Robert Heinlein would say - We are all Strangers In A Stranger Land. Nice job.

  • anu shani4 months ago

    nice

  • ♥️💯Great Article 📝😉

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