Sanjay Sabarwal's Blog

I hate the awkwardness after a fight.  What was carefree and simple before becomes exaggerated and stiff.  Its like one has to fake being normal until something in our heart kicks us in gear.  I hate that period because you get to wondering when you will get to that magic moment when all is right in moment, where the laughter and the questions arent forced but genuinely following that person’s heart? 

As much as I hate fighting, I hate the making up even more for the above reasons.  I know its unreasonable to expect to everything to revert as if we went through a time portal, but then my expectations about love are probably different from others.  I know when I am spent from a fight, I just want to be ok, and I want to comfort the other person. 

The main fear I have after the fight is tthat he fakeness can lead to more fights, more exhausation, more worry is this really going to work out? And it is just plain tiring. How many time can we someone use their brain as a punching bag for insecurities, anger, sadness and just fear? I was down for 10 count, but before it got there, I am back up.  And I am going to fight to make sure I dont fight.  I dont want a life full of pain especially when I have someone who is my joy and love. 

So my mid year resolution.  Accept life as it is.  Expect nothing but relish everything.  Pain is but a sympton not the cause.  I can do better, and will do so.  So on the 4th of July, I free myself from fight, and endeavor to fight for my relationship.  Yea, yea I get the contradiction, but if I am going to fight no matter what, it better be for the right damn reasons. 

Happy 4th.  A year ago it wasnt for us, but maybe just maybe this weekend will erase that desperate fight to survive society.  Just maybe.

Sometimes, I wonder if a partnership is just taking on the other’s pain, and accepting nothing in return?  Or is that love? or a favor? or being a friend? The last few days have surprised me in who has been there for me, and the ones I thought would be are strangely silent.  Or maybe I just killed their voices with my constant falls?

And so again, I am alone or I think I am until I talk to others who force their way past that iron wall, and say hey I am here, are you ok? Your not alone.  And strangely it hurts, because its not the familiar partner you expect, but someone else who feels your emotions.  And you wonder I made a mistake, and yet others feel like its their problem, and need to make you feel every second of that stupidity? It sounds like human nature.  ” I am too hurt” to see your pain.  And vice versa.  And so on that circle continues, and I begin to think that perhaps the problem is me.  Maybe I feel too much for too long, and dont allow others to feel that, or maybe because I can express that pain, somehow it makes it ok for others to pile on some more? 

I have a problem.  Of saying sorry , admitting my mistakes too readily, and constantly trying to see the other side.  Maybe it makes me a good lawyer but more rightly a lousy listener.  Contradictory perhaps, but I am so ready to see the other’s pain or reasoning, I forget myself.  Except in these words, but somehow whats left is me being that person to vent to another, especially the ones you wish to share with.  And so althought the words are here on this page, they still feel lonely because I am.  The ones that could take that way too much in pain, and I too ready to consider that to want to disturb them. 

So here I go on, hoping the words give me some shape even though I am hollow inside.  But somehow full with pain. 

But I digress…

I remember when I turned legal.  It was when I got my license, and the first time I was pulled over.  And in that instant, I became an adult as well learned the consequences of being 18.  But the moment was joyous because I was into a new world.  And today, I am 18 again in another way, and even though there are consequence, it is with a sense of happiness because we have crossed a threshold. 

Anniversaries have a way of making us look back, and really consider the present.  The road is sure paved with potholes, but it also has directions.  It may be a bumpy road but we are still getting near to our destination.  Getting to a number is a sign of change and also expectation.  18 is one of those numbers where a whole relationship is defined as is a person.  What was once child;s play now turns into serious business.  What was acceptable as a child is seen an immature and irresponsible on an adult.

18 is a long road to get to for some, and while the promises of love and greatness there, it is still a tumultous time.  So thought I look like an adult, there is still that child in me that needs to learn, and get better.  The rules have changed for us, and the excuses have to go away.  18 brings about a sense of responsibility regardless of whether we are ready for them or not.  Experience is the only help we have now, and ofcourse love. 

We begin again in a way, anniversaries have a way of doing that.  And yet another chance to fix what is so obvious all along.  What seemed simple is complicated because the emotions are the same but the actions different.  The love is there but pain is trying to drown it.  And its why its important sometimes to just have a do over. 

Midnight approaches, and even though a miracle wont happen, a date will.  A rememberance of the time past, and a chance to grow up.  It may sound familiar but I will become an adult.  I will try harder.  I will be 18.  I hope I can learn from my mistakes and be the happiness for the ones who expect it from me.  I made countless promises, and now its time to grow up.  18

Happy Anniversary Babu.  I love you.

Constantly, I live my life’s mistakes over, and I wonder when will it ever end.  And then I add to those mistakes so what was once a solo mistep has now defined me.   Perhaps it is best I am alone, you only need one person to beat up on you, and I think I am doing a great job at that.  My life a cliche?  It will be until I either change my actions or become someone new.  But where does one begin?  Where do I say that ok I have hit rock bottom, and now I can being again?  And then there is the nagging perception that others wont let go of my past, they cant see me who I am now, and then I falter.  But I do make mistakes, and I admit them, in a way thats all I can do is admit them, and somehow that has become a weakness, another reason to be defined.  So I am thinking that perhaps, I just let time ride me out for a while, let others feel as they do, and I contrinue to be who I am. 

But then thats always the question, isnt it? Who am I?  Friend? Boyfriend? Son? Failure?  Faker? Disturbed?  Or am I am collection of all those parts to become a hole or a whole? In these times, all I have these words, because thats I can manage to spill out.  My feelings are another matter.  They are now a blackhole of emptiness, and pain.  Its better that I pretend that I dont exist then to dwell on them  But they are around the corner, always peeking at me.  I hurt and I hurt others close to me, and then I have this “what me?” attitude.  Just feel alone, and perhaps that is best because I cant seem to make anyone happy lately. 

Alone.  It defines me. 

You ever get the feeling that you hear the same advice day in and day out, and the problem isnt the people giving it, but its the failure for it to sink in. 

Eh, tired, never mind

Finally, back home, a word that I havent used for the house I have been living in the past year.  Somehow, it drew me in and compelled me to clean it because the first thought when I walked in, was man my home is dirty.  And there it was.  I finally belonged to something I wholly owned, and in the feverish of clearing away books and washing dishes, there was a sense of peace, a blanket of completeness, something I thought could only come from another.  But 4 walls suddenly hugged me, and made me feel like for once, it was a good day, a day of learning, accomplishment, and helpling my little brother out.  Only thing missing was a piece of my heart who was working away, and it surprised me that we hadnt heard each others voices since morning.  And then realization nudged away that perhaps it can be done, perhaps time apart will bring us closer, and I cringe at the cliche I have become. 

So here I am, drinking a beer, saluting myself to a clean house, to a job attended to, and a dear one helped.  And the missing was missed as usual but not forgotten.  I can hope for more days like this only so I dont drown her and myself in self-pity.  Who knew, work and home, the new pillars of my strenght?  Or maybe it was just a lucky day, here is a toast to ending this meaningful day in a way I will remember longer than this post.

Home sweet home.  3 new words that I can say to myself instead of I love you.  Perhaps there is salvation in that.