The Voice on the phone.

The Voice on the phone.

I am sitting on my bed, staring out the window. My room lit dimly, but my thoughts as bright as ever. Its 3 am and my parents are asleep. My brother still awake and lost, in the virtual world of sitcoms.

Everything is fine, I tell myself. My life is sorted, at least to an outsider. I have all the comforts required to lead a decent living. My parents have provided me with the best of everything. I am blessed with a great family and all kind of friends; the good, the fake and the annoying.  I have absolutely everything a girl in her twenties can have, here. Except one thing;

Him.

I am not a girl who makes a relationship the heart of her life. I am logical, rational and practical. Really, I don’t believe in fairy tales and I hate flowers. I am not conventional. I am “hardcore”.  I am not scared of anything. I have always been in control of my emotions. I don’t go with the flow, I seldom obsess over things. I am always safe and secure. I hardly let anyone enter my inner most circle. Except this time, I guess.

I couldn’t help it. I was under control, at first. In the years I have known him, I did really try. The logic was all in place. I didn’t let him know me, I didn’t let him close. How could I? He was too vibrant, too bright an energy. He would have created havoc in my otherwise controlled existence. He had the power of setting me free, of teaching me how to fly, and I knew that, the moment I set eyes on him. I knew what he could do, and it could never work. I wasn’t ready for freedom. Freedom is arbitrary; it has no shape, no direction. You can’t control it; you can’t keep it in check. Cynicism and freedom can’t go hand in hand. I am a cynic, not a free thinker. I study, I get good grades and I succeed in life. Painting, writing, singing all these artistic things can’t give you surety. They are supposed to be hobbies, they can’t be done full time. It’s too risky. Artistic people are too risky, and He, was an artist.

Then, it happened. All my beliefs, my walls, my carefully knit control, everything came tumbling down. The forces of attraction, the power was too strong, too divine, for me to control it. It hit me, it hit us, and the impact of it threw us at each other. Gave him the flow of moisturizing my dry inner self, and my logic helped me give his emotions support. Sooner than later, we both realized that this isn't your normal connection, our souls had conjoined. It was divine.

I had the best few months with him, the best time ever. I delved into him and he unfolded me. He taught me how to fly, and I taught him direction. With each passing day, we became stronger. Our intensity heightened and our passion for each other, for life grew. For the first time in my life, the world was clear. The colors were sharper than before, the voices were more distinct. Everything was complete, everything was perfect.

And then, the most difficult test of our lives struck us. I had to leave his city and come to mine. We were thrown into every couple’s worst nightmare.

The Long Distance.

It’s not a tragedy, my scenario. At least till now it isn't. It is just a difficult phase. A phase I am hoping would end soon.  Even though, doubt keeps tugging at me. Waiting to get an in. Waiting to engulf my practical head and show me the cynical side of my situation, I fight it. Sometimes it succeeds, succeeds in entering. Of showing me the risk I have taken by going in so deep, and my head snaps and I want to run away. It happens sometimes. Those times I hurt him, I push him away, and I shut down. Of course. But thank god for his patience that I always do find a way back. Always find my comfortable space in our risky connection. Always.

People say long distance is hard, of course it is. But they say it’s hard for all the wrong reasons. It’s not hard because you fight when that person chills with the opposite sex more than he talks to you; no, it’s hard because the center of your world is reduced to being a voice on the phone.

It’s hard because you can’t feel the reassurance; the presence of a loved one can give you. You can’t touch his face; see the lights dancing in his spirited eyes. You can’t be there to look at him and smile, telling him everything will be alright. There are so many things you can’t do, or express, or feel.

He told me, very few people experience what we have. He said we’ll survive this not just because we love each other to insanity, but because we have something majority of the couples fail to achieve, we are best friends.

Maybe that is the hardest part. For a cynical girl like me, friendship has always preceded love. I believed that the chances of a friend hurting me will always be less, compared to a lover. Friends are always going to be there for me. Love has an expiry date. Friendship doesn't. And he became my best friend. My one “go-to” person. My agony aunt.

In the past few months I realized how I am dating my cellular phone. How every time I am sad, dull, happy, angry or excited my phone is the first thing I turn to. I have fights with my phone, I have lovely talks with it, every night before I sleep, it’s my phone I say I love you to. All this because I know, the voice coming from my phone feels the same way.

Now and then the future scares me, “what ifs” flood my head. Triggering a chain reaction, leading to other “what ifs”. What if we don’t work out, what if I never find a way back, what if our lives don’t sort out, what if everything. I know the stakes are high, our cards are played against us. What if “all of us”, can’t handle the obstacles. How do I have faith in something I can’t even see?

As these thoughts slowly form a whorl in my head, pushing me into a stormy dark cloud. My phone lights up and I hear a too familiar ring. It’s Him. I jump with a start, pick up the phone and answer the call. His voice resonates in my head, whispering sweet nothings and lifting my spirits. All of a sudden, the storm clears away. The dark clouds recede, and I know, everything will be fine. It has to be, because there is no other way to it.