I made the choice to let the bird fly. I let it out of the cage so it could find its way. Did the bird actually want to leave? Well that I did not know. The answer is somewhere embedded in the birds’ thoughts. Sometime last week I was telling you a story of my secondary school sweetheart. One of the few girls that have managed to breach the firewall that is embedded somewhere close to my heart. So, our days had become something everyone wished for. I mean whoever looked at us always wanted to be like us. It wasn’t that simple. Every evening at 6pm I had to switch on CNN or BBC for the students so they could get updates on the Iraq war and the media jargon that existed that time.
This time was rightfully utilised. I used to stand at the back of the hall and at 6:30pm she would appear. And then we would talk “pakalast.” Honestly I can’t exactly remember what we used to talk about. But we spent quite some time together. This was the only time she would probably get to see me as I was always caught up in some off-the-school duties. Her innocence always kept a faithful drive. Our love life was characterised by daily chits and endless smiles that we offered to the world. We were the perfect match.
I truly treasured the moments and loved every bit I spent with her. However there is something about me that did feel like she was being cheated of true love. Not that I didn’t love her but I felt I had cheated her of what she deserved. I was one of those guys who had some very stunning addictions apart from the Tiger Woods addiction. I was brought up like an English kid and very protected. I knew how to cover my tracks and was rarely caught in the wrong places. Innocence was just a facial expression. She didn’t deserve this for each time, each second and each microcosm I felt she was being cheated of the right guy.
I decided to call it off not because I had lost interest but because I needed to rediscover myself. The real I needed to be unearthed and I felt she had to go. I wanted the best for her that of which I couldn’t offer at that time. Rehab wasn’t the easiest of choices but what could I do. It was my only choice. She needed not to know. So I let the bird out of the cage, and she flew away. I let her move on and each time I heard she had met someone I never felt like interfering, I stayed away and let her be.
When all was over with my rehabilitation, I thought the bird would come flying back. But all I received was the hatred she had for me. In my mind, I blamed myself for letting her go, but the other part of me cherishes this decision. She is happy now and I have let it go. She always tells me that its now my turn to be happy. I only get angry when she tells me that I rejected her, stopped communicating and did not like her. Sometimes I feel like telling her the truth of why I broke it off but somebody stops me. This is the one I have recently met.
If my heart was a house – Owl city