The concept of meeting someone for the first time is over-romanticised. I’m not saying you can’t bump into your future spouse one day in a bookshop and that exchanging pleasantries with the person behind you in the coffee queue can't lead to a lifelong friendship; despite being a despiser of small talk, I believe the universe sends affable people to those who lead with warmth and amiability. Whilst doing some late-night scrolling on Reddit a few years ago I learnt of a couple who met because they were in a meet-and-greet queue for Stephen King whilst the author was promoting Carrie. The pair conversed for hours and Stephen, assuming they were a couple when they reached the beginning of the queue, greeted the pair together. Fast forward to today, they have been happily married for decades. I can only describe that kind of meeting and its subsequent love affair as sacred, something so perfect that its happening was woven into Heaven’s transcripts long before it occurred.
When I say these connections are over-romanticised, I simply mean that they’re everywhere in the media. Fairytale meetings and storybook endings are not commonplace; romantic and harmonious love, in the real world, takes place over a larger time scale and is often something to fight for. Platonic soulmates aren’t discussed enough. You can have a profound, heartfelt bond with someone without any kind of romantic affection being involved; friendships have the capacity to possess the same keenness and love as romantic relationships do. I've had brotherly, sisterly and parental-like relationships with a lot of people in my life.
My best friend Chloe (who now goes by Alicia to everyone except for me) and I have had a cosmic connection since we were both 7 years old. Even as a young child, I would go through periods where I felt horribly misunderstood and afraid of the future, so much so that I would write pages upon pages of A4 detailing my feelings and then proceed to call Chloe and read out my diary entries to her (on our landline phones). To this day she is my biggest cheerleader, she tells everyone about my achievements even when I feel as though I haven’t had any. She reads me better than anyone else, probably because she knows every single tiny trauma I’ve experienced. I still tell her everything now, though I wait until we’re face to face. I tell her boyfriend everything too.
Reconnecting with someone leads to a whole other onslaught of emotions. Sometimes that reconnection occurs in the aftermath of forgiveness, other times it’s because you’ve missed someone. There’s a warmth, a fire that ignites inside your heart which precedes the inevitable excitement and panic. A few years ago, I briefly reconnected with someone who at one point was very important to me. This particular person was never anything but extremely kind to me, but in retrospect, I know that I cared for him far more than he ever cared for me. I went out of my way to advise him and help him at times when he didn’t ask for assistance or even need it. He was always grateful, though I’m sure on some level he must have thought I was an obsessive oddball. I still believe the best way to repay an act of kindness is to be kind in return, though thirty-odd acts of kindness are unnecessary. The weirdest thing is, I never fancied the guy. My behaviour stemmed from a desire to be liked.
About three years ago I reached out to this said guy on his birthday. We hadn’t spoken in a few years but with the happenings of 2020, I’d made a point of reaching out to my old school friends on their birthdays and wishing them well. He thanked me, wished me well and probably thought my message was a one-off.
Of course, it wasn’t. I messaged a few days later asking for his assistance on a project I was working on at uni, using the excuse of needing more male participants in a survey. I’d been seeing his name on my Snapchat recents every day and had kicked the idea around, eventually giving in to dropping an additional message. Being the nice guy he is, he responded and agreed, messaging me a few days later to tell me he’d completed the survey. I profusely thanked him, and asked him how he was doing and what ensued were a few back-and-forth messages. Those simple messages sent me into a time warp; the desperation to be liked by just one cool person at school returned. I went to bed that night, heart pounding, much less stressed about my return to working at the tuition centre the next day because maybe, just maybe, we'd become friends again.
This was when the universe turned the situation on its head: after my shift the following morning, I saw him. In West Bromwich town centre. I skipped over to him and we exchanged pleasantries for about a minute. The encounter was short, sweet and above all, weirdly surprising. He was with a girl, and I beat myself up for weeks internally about the fact that I didn’t formally introduce myself and ask her for her name - if my mum had witnessed the exchange, I'd have received a lengthy telling-off for my lack of politeness. To top that off, I don’t think doing so would have changed his obvious disinterest in talking to me for a longer period.
I’m not saying he wasn’t happy to see me. I’m not saying he didn’t find the chance run-in oddly timed and pleasant. But it couldn’t have been more obvious that I was happier to see him than he was to see me. The lack of reciprocity in my relationships wasn’t something to ignore, it was something to acknowledge and grow from. To say those few days didn’t take my breath away would be an understatement - the amalgamation of emotions left me feeling suffocated, for I was forced to confront a decade-long issue with the absence of those who do reciprocate my love and affection around me. And I ended up writing this poem.
Can I breathe
My chest feels heavy
My shoulders are shaking
My heartbeat unsteady
I want to leave
Because the walls are closing in
There’s a war inside my head
That my mind can’t win
Can you believe
My breathing’s off too
It rattles in my lungs
A feeling not new
The facade I weave
The fineness and smiling
The smiling with teeth
Has unravelled and is spiralling
Can I breathe
For a moment, please
Hi guys - Happy February!
The longest and most depressing month of the year is over, thank Goodness. Let me know what you're looking forward to!
By the way - I'm never telling who this story is about.
Best,
Karisma xx
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