We are humans, terribly forgetful creatures with a touch of sadism.
We rarely remember.
We mostly forget.
We remember bitterly, how vulnerable love made us feel.
We forget how it was vulnerability that fueled our passion, passion that could have caused us to burn cities and drown continents in our desperation, passion that destroyed us, ate away at our insides.
We remember how shattered love made us feel after it abandoned us.
We forget how it gave us the courage to do what we’d never done before, the strength to endure till our very last breath.
We remember tears, fights, wilted roses and heartbreak.
We forget coy smiles and unstoppable laughter, sleepless nights and the thrill of having inside secrets that only made sense to us.
What we forget, we cease to understand.
And what we cannot understand, we berate mercilessly, we ridicule ruthlessly.
So, we laugh. We laugh at the Romeos and Juliets of the world, the star crossed lovers, the tragic couples, we laugh at their passion.
We call them rash, we call them impulsive.
But we’ve forgotten what it was to be one of them; young and rash, impulsive and desperate.
We’ve forgotten what it meant, to throw away all caution to the wind, to not give a rat’s piss about what the world thought of us.
We’ve forgotten what it meant to be in love.
Painting by a very talented young artist and great friend, Waleed Ahmad.