ABSOLUTE TRUTH

living in a much simpler time.

A choice. That's what it comes down to every single time, isn’t it? Do you take the risk, or do you play the safer route? Sometimes, it isn’t about the risk or reward; sometimes, it’s about preference. Which is why I have a question- no, a hypothetical choice for you.

Would you go back? To the past, before the bad, before the regret, before everything shattered. However, you wouldn’t be able to change anything that affects the events that are bound to come. Or, would you jump straight into the future? A simpler time, where the past can't touch you. But you can't touch the past either. Which one? Which choice would you take?

Honestly, I would choose the past. Not because I want to remember or experience my memories again, but I want to feel the pain again. I want to feel love again. I want to feel hatred again. I want to feel wanted again, but most of all,

I want to feel redundant one last time.

The future would be nice too, don’t get me wrong, I want to live in a much simpler time as well, but it’s just that little voice in my head.

It doesn’t want closure; it never wanted closure.

You know what it wants?

It wants to walk together at dispersal again. It wants to sit together and have lunch again. It wants to laugh at her stupid jokes again. It wants to relive the memories that remain unfinished.

Like a book with the last chapter missing, it feels incomplete, and a sense of despair.

But that’s not the absolute truth.

The truth is that the last chapter was written and finished a long time ago. Every sentence, every word and every letter of that story was complete.

Everything that needed closure found its resolution.

But that’s not what I wanted, now, is it?

I didn't want closure; I wanted continuation. I didn't want things to end; I wanted us to escalate. I wanted us to go and grow through everything. It didn't matter to me if you made a grave mistake, or argued with me, or even killed someone, for that matter. If you felt regret and were sorry for your actions, I would always forgive you. I wanted us to go on forever,

till the day we died.

All you had to do was not fall out of love, and that’s precisely what you did.

All the memories I had already made were gone with a snap of a finger. Just like that, my wife was killed, and a ghost replaced her.

I write letters to that ghost today, I tell her about my dreams, my nightmares. I tell her how I see her face in the angry clouds, and her pretty eyes in the mirror. I tell her every memory of her that I remember. The day we hugged for the first time, and how I almost cried when we did. I tell her how her smile lit up my day, how her voice made me blush, and how the touch of her hands, even if accidental, made me feel loved.

A love like this is anything but a gift. Because once it’s over, you’re left with memories which never even happened, and for the rest of your life, you remember a reality which never took place, a reality which wasn’t even real,

a reality far from the absolute truth.

-Dashmehar Singh.