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A boy-girl ‘Break Up’ makes for nice gossip and is an interesting affair. More so if it happens to others. Not quite the same if it happens to oneself.

Most boys don’t do a number of things. They don’t dress Barbie dolls in pink, they don’t cook unless mom isn't around, they don’t check out what other women are wearing, and they don’t talk about break ups. You know, it’s a girl thing. Sana tells Nisha about her breakup with Aman, starts sobbing and Nisha comforts Sana by holding her hand and telling her about Aman being a pig, softly. Boys are not to do it. Aman would say “I had a break up. I am fine.” and play some computer game on his system. Boys are supposed to be these heartless flings who are not pained by emotional mangling. They are supposed to be men, who are not supposed to cry, at least not in the company of any living thing.

So I don’t really know how most boys who have been in a break up feel about it. But I can try to talk about what I feel about mine. It is a personal thing, but then its been a while now and I have tried just about everything to make the 'I am fine' part true and 'move on'. All with little success though. Neha used to tell me that writing is powerful form of expression and can help you grow past a lot of experiences, so here I am giving it a shot.

This post in all likelihood is more for me than anyone else. My thoughts are all confused. But that’s why I need to put them down, in the hope of realizing what I feel. I may not make sense. Your Escape route – The little cross on the right top of this page.

‘Break up’, as a term, sounds too neat to be true. It’s not a Kit Kat chocolate bar which you ‘break’ into two pieces. It’s about ‘breaking’ something emotional which is shared between two people. You just don’t snap the chocolate bar into two pieces and feed one part to Johnnie and other part to Ronnie and go around as if the chocolate never existed.

A “break up” never really breaks up completely. I mention her to some very close friends. Some of them look at me like I just mentioned a plan to commit suicide after dinner. They tell me to get over her. I know they mean well and are my well wishers. But I don’t understand this ‘get over’ talk. Am I supposed to forget her, delete her like some unused file from a hard disk? I still remember my classmate’s mom who would drop me home after school in class first. I still remember the loads of watches dad bought me coz none would last more than a month. The same way, I remember her, and would remember her all my life.

I remember her. Sometimes I feel sad. At two in the morning, I am doing something on the comp and some soft, soulful track comes onto the winamp, and all those moments start coming back, and I just can’t concentrate on my work and have to change the track to some loud rock number which talks about guns and street fights and other unromantic issues. I still lie awake at night thinking of those times. But I am not the one to finger my wounds or write anguished poems about lost love.

All of us have some memories, and I have them too. That’s it. I am perfectly fine. I think I am at peace. I am fine with my past. Because it’s not my present.

Every experience changes one. I once called a beefy guy in my class ‘fatso’. The experience taught me that calling big people fatso leads to a week long body ache. So I have learnt some things from my break up. I have changed. And I like to believe, changed for the better.

I think I expect less from people around me. Some people interpret this more disturbingly, and say I have become emotionally closed. But I am not sad or cold and the people who interact with me would know that. I love people. But at a psychological level, I realize that to want anything from the person may lead to pain. You talk to this person, and you are not thinking ahead, because you don’t harbor any expectations from the person, and this helps you be in the moment and lends a lot more naturalness and ease to the interaction.

With time I have also figured out that it’s not like a cell phone balance where you have a limited balance sufficient to make fixed number of calls. Just because I care for Neha doesn’t mean I can’t care for another girl. I will honestly give my all to make happy the girl who spends her life with me. But I am a little scared. I want to love and take care of that person but want to be this strong guy who doesn’t need any love. Maybe I do need it, but I don’t want to believe that I do, because it makes me feel weak, and feel like a helpless kid who needs someone to love him, and makes me vulnerable to more hurt and pain.

For my parents , most of my friends , the people around me , I am the same , but I have changed , and I hope changed in a way where I can treat and love people with minimal expectations from them , in a more natural and peaceful manner .

All experiences change people. Just that some school bully leaves a black eye which shows and some people leave feelings and insights, which are not seen, but felt.

ps: dunno what made me write this, I am guessing it was this