“That’s what love is about. Love is keeping the promise anyway.” – John Green, TFIOS
He had always been a mess. Disheveled hair, lost eyes, abstract thoughts- his life was an unfinished piece of art. The saddest part was, he wasn’t even working on it.
That was before she had happened.
She was the artist who transformed his unfinished piece of art into a masterpiece. She did nothing much, just sprinkled a pinch of magic on his otherwise gloomy life. Ah! What a transformation, his friends would marvel at them.
It wasn’t that his world had changed overnight. No, it hadn’t. It had just turned a bit different, a bit happier, a bit better. Everytime he looked at her, he wanted to say a thousand words, yet he could speak nothing. Mesmerized, was he?
After she happened to him, his days weren’t the same anymore. Now, she was his “good morning” and she was his “sleep stupid it’s late”. He started loving her to bits. Everytime he saw her smiling, he would smile too, thinking how beautiful his life had turned out to be. She had become his world now.
“I’d never love anyone else the way I love you”, an honest promise.
He smiled. She smiled back. His world was complete.
A year passed. The most beautiful year of his life, it was. With her by his side, the world seemed a nice place to be.
What went wrong? He thinks, sometimes. Always ends up without an answer.
She had left, without any reason, absolutely no explanations. Gone, suddenly, like a puff of smoke. Left him with a scar, too deep to be washed out.
“You are just a dust particle”, she’d screamed into his ears.
He voice long gone, the words still haunted him. The 24th, it was. He hated 24ths since then.
He retreated to his cocoon. Only this time, he was a bit messier, a bit scruffier, a bit more silent. He could never be himself again.
People changed, life changed. His mind changed bit by bit, too. But the silly heart, it was stuck at that same old place, embracing those same old memories.
He was never this rude before. But that was another time, before she had disappeared. She left him with a curse; he couldn’t love. He had promised her, hadn’t he?
Just a dust particle. True that. We’re all dust particles; we leave as quickly as we had come. In the midst of being dust particles, we live, laugh and love. We are artists, we create art, we create beauty. And we find the ‘Other’ dust particle, destined for us, our one and only.
She called him a dust particle. What she didn’t realise was, she was one, too. In fact, we all are. The difference? Some of us make promises, and others, break them.
Loved ones leave all the time. We weep, we mourn. Do they come back? They don’t. They don’t because they’re dust particles, and they’d vanished into thin air.
But we keep hoping. We close our eyes, and pray, and keep hoping for a little bit of magic to happen.
He had kept his promise, he wouldn’t love anyone else the way he’d loved her, but oh, he’d definitely love more. He was destined to be loved by a dust particle who makes promises and keeps them, not one whose promises are lost with time. He was yet to find his ‘Other’, and he was yet to love her more than he ever did.
One day, she’d realise. And she’d be sorry. She might even be back. But he’ll not hold her hand again. Not because he didn’t love her anymore. He still did. But maybe because some doors are not meant to be opened again, maybe because some people pass our lives to teach, no stay, or maybe because she was not lucky enough to be his stardust.