On the process of removal

There’s a very systematic process with which people remove you from their lives. Especially those who couldn’t wait to connect with you as each day begun. Friends who updated you on their day religiously; lovers who couldn’t wait to bask in your warmth every day. That process starts with them denying that they are removing you from their lives.

You, who are being removed, see it right at the beginning of this process. You, who are being removed, watch quietly knowing the inevitable end. You, who are being removed, feel the cleaving and say nothing because there is no real thing to talk about. You, who are being removed, are a victim of your own pride.

It all starts out with an insistence that they, who are doing the removal, are being themselves. They, who are doing the removal, hold you within them and isn’t that enough. They, who are doing the removal, have no problems with you — if you dare swallow your pride and ask. It’s them, not you, say they, who are doing the removal. And maybe it is. And yet, it is not.

You, who are being removed, are now inconvenient. You, who are being removed, are now not needed. You might be wanted, and sometimes even welcome, but you are now being removed. You, who are being removed, are someone that can be done away with because more meaningful things in life need the space you occupy. You, who are being removed, occupy too much space. You, who are being removed, my dear, are *in* the way of things that are more meaningful. So not only do you need to vacate the room because you occupy too much space, you are also slap bang messy splatter obstacle high slippery dark in the path of the things that more meaningful for them who are doing the removal.

They, who are doing the removal, have not yet opened their eyes and seen that you, who are being removed, can see this. Like when you are asleep and hear the sounds of a quiet morning around you, groggy, needy for more sleep, the comfort of forgetting, and you wonder if it’s just some movement in the night of your mind or is it morning yet. Can it please not be morning? They, who are doing the removal, that is how they remove you. By closing their eyes and chipping at bonds, they, who are doing the removal, start in their dreams. The truth of their promises, their declarations of love, the promises that they expected to keep when they pressed your hand and looked into your eyes: they, who are doing the removal, cannot take the truth of that. For who are they without the promises that they deeply believed in, even if it was just for that minute when you made it real with your trust?

And you, who are being removed, have new spaces for things. Crevices, shelves, rooms you drift in and out of, hell, entire galaxies to fill up with the things that aren’t there now that you are being removed. You, who are being removed, cling, cry, fight because having galaxies to fill means you are lost again. Unmoored, and unnecessary. You, who are being removed, plot and plan pathetically to see in what ways you can tell yourself that you are needed. You, who are being removed, find ways to creep back in. All of them tight spaces, entries so narrow you can’t breathe. You, who are being removed, unleash all your smallness on them, who are doing the removal. Where there was a gentle eddy, you, who are being removed, have managed to suck things into a whirlpool. Poor them, who are doing the removal. Poor you, removed.

One thought on “On the process of removal

  1. Hibiscus (@chembarathi)

    I could feel the warmth of tears on my cheek as I ended reading this. I felt that pain of desolation again through your words. Your writing never fail to awake me from the numbness i have fallen into. Thank you so much S.

    Like

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s