I mean I have always imagined being in an entirely separate continent as the same as being in different cities. In its simplicity, time zones notwithstanding, you just don’t get to see the person everyday.
And in its all simplicity, we humans forget to be that- simple.
When we live in different cities but the same country, we never need to call, never need to see. And add a few thousand miles to the existing hundreds, you feel you are so away from all those you love, the need to see, to talk, to be, increases manifold. Why is this so different? Is it the subconscious that says, being in the same country, different places lets you get away with the sense of security- I can hop on a train/plane whenever I want, and just zoom back home. Whilst being a thousand miles apart tells you, my whims will get lost in the labyrinth of practical trivialities like money, time and the over-powering distance.
Take for instance, my oldest and my best friend for the longest time, our busy lives never let us meet up even when we were in the same city for more than a year! Though that time was indeed interspersed with short phone calls, I never knew of the turmoil she was going through. But now that I was back home for a few weeks, she set aside all her plans, her sabbatical from the cruelties of life to be with me. For every day she could. And now from across oceans, I am more connected to her- pushing her, prodding her, lending a shoulder, a ear and simply, being there for for her.
Isn’t it weird? When we have the means, we never need them. When we don’t have the means, when all the ways in and all the ways out are all but restricted, we need, we yearn, we reach out for all that we didn’t when we could.
But to people who we love and have never seen, the constancy in a world that remains unchanged whether you log in from one country or another, you repeat the same mistake from the lesson you never seem to learn. Sometimes the lines are so blurry, and you miss where the virtual overlaps with the real, and the real actually is non-existent.
You could deal with the anger, but not with the hurt. You could try logic but what when the love itself is illogical? You could will the person to understand but you’d know that you wouldn’t have if it were you, even if you had tried to.
It is something about people, something about relationships, it’s something about loving. About belonging and caring. It comes with responsibilities that we forget. That which we sometimes choose to set aside in times of trouble, trying to prioritize and failing.
But at the end of the day, when you almost come to losing the love you know is irreplaceable, you wake up to tears from your own eyes. Why is it we forget what we have? Why is it we never value something till it is no more? Why do we hurt, when all we wanted to was love?
Why do we never grow up? Never learn?
Sometimes even an apology dripping with shared pain, is not enough.