She left as soon as the lecture ended, as she did everyday, heading home. But today my legs finally moved, carrying me towards her. I could feel the wind as my steps became swifter. Swifter to reach her. I wondered how long had it been since I harboured these feelings as I felt the soft warmth of the sun and the plants swaying joyously around me. This was happening. I was finally moving. I took in one huge breath of the warm autumn noon as I pondered with all my mind if I should stop her.
The thought of giving up came rushing to me, getting stronger as I got closer to her. We had been friends for a long time. We had something special already, why ruin it? What if I get shot down? What if this ruins the relationship we already have? There seemed to be a lot of ways my feelings could push my life into, should I really act on them?
Even though all these thoughts revolved around in my head, I couldn’t betray my legs. I couldn’t take back the steps already produced. For once my feelings were too strong to regress again. It had to be now, it had to be. I had to stop her from crossing the gate, going back to where we’ve always been. I liked how things were, but I wanted more. As I wanted something to move, I did…
It took all the strength in my arms to tap her on the shoulder. She turned. She had a look on her face which seemed so innocent compared to what I carried in my heart.
As my eyes met her, a strange feeling inside me quickened and enveloped my entire being. I became aware of her eyes looking directly at mine. I became aware of her fingers waiting in anticipation. I became aware of her feelings, as she must have wondered what was up looking at a fumbling me.
Should I confess? Rip apart the friendly relationship which came to be for a new one, whichever route it may take. Set aloft a new chains of events by merely speaking a few words. I became aware of it all.
I like you.
Was all I could manage. All my emotions and feelings translated in those three little words and they seemed enough. They described my feelings perfectly. Or at least I thought so…
Let’s ask ourselves a few questions now…
What is a confession?
According to Wikipedia “a confession is a statement – made by a person acknowledging some personal fact that the person would ostensibly prefer to keep hidden.”
According to me “a confession is an end stage to all uncertainty”. Kind of like an ultimate truth. It is a simple statement of fact born at a person’s core and laid bare to be experienced by the world.
Why does one confess?
Is it because you want love in return? A relationship to begin? Yes, it might happen, but while you confess, how can you be sure? Isn’t it uncertain, that’s why it’s called romance?
It might even be a no, which most people wouldn’t want. If so, why confess? Some might do it out of pure curiosity which only makes sense, if they weren’t serious about the confession in the first place. If you ever confessed your feelings of love, and you were even slightly serious about it, you will agree with me as I say, the moment you confessed anything to anyone, was one of the most honest moments of your life. Honest to yourself, honest to your feelings and honest to the person you confessed to.
What happens when one confesses? The short period when the words leave the tongue and nothing else is noticed or heard. Why suffer this? What does the boy in the story really feel as he started to move but couldn’t explain it?
The reason one confesses is simple. Emotions are heavy, of love, guilt, sorrow or jealousy. If you collect them inside your heart, not letting go, they fill you up like river water fills up a dam.
They restrict you, bind you, take away your freedom and influence you. Soon before you know it, they fill you up. One might not even notice it, but they become their entire world.
One confesses to set open the gates of emotions that one harbours in their heart. In love it becomes a confession. Once you let go of all that was building up inside of you, don’t you feel light?
You might say that some decide when and where to confess, and plan every bit of your confession. But when the words start flowing which say what you felt, were you in control? And if you were, was it really a confession?
The very act of confession, is a an idealistic entity. One that was born purely out of emotion. (By idealistic I mean an unrealistic belief, which demands perfection). It calls for something equal in exchange- a similar experience, emotions, a gesture or understanding.
But the real world isn’t so. It is harsh, insensitive and cruel for something directly from the heart. Reality has the power enough to destroy every bit of belief that you had in the world. Reality is bound to ensue as we live in a real world rather than an idealistic one, which often means feelings won’t be really answered. Even if they are, they usually would not mean the same thing to others as they mean to you.
It hurts. A rejection to a confession hurts. An approval might seem happy in the beginning, but if not met with the same intent, it hurts. It hurts because of the feelings were born idealistically, in our hearts. They want to be answered. They wanted to be felt, treasured and cherished, not die alone in the ice.
In the story, the boy confessed. He confessed by saying three simple words which described his emotions perfectly as he thought, but was it the same for the girl? Did the girl really understand all that the boy went through by mere three words? Could he really put his emotions in words, even if he tried?
The difference between ideal (human emotion) and real (the real world) is like that. People do not live in the real world, but see the world through a window with filters which changes along with the change in the state of mind. The view through the window is affected by emotion and experience which cannot be shared or understood as everyone are simply in different windows.
In all the distance between people and the how people take events of the world in different sense, a confession is still like a newborn baby- pure and honest. If it can’t be treasured, doesn’t it at least deserve honesty? If something is pure, shouldn’t it meet with something similar in return?
Let’s be practical about this. Dealing with emotions is tough, but a bit if pragmatism might move mountains. All I ask is this- if a person confesses directly from their heart, think about it for a moment, and respond in honest.
An honest feeling deserves honesty.
This simply means that no more “it’s not you it’s me” or being vague about it or avoid it altogether. Understand what a confession really means, if not the feelings behind it. Value the emotions, and respect them, with honesty in return.
In a world where the ideal and real clash, let us try and be a bit more practical. If faced with an honest feeling, let’s at least return honesty.
Many of you might have known or discovered this on your own, but as I learnt this on my own, I wanted to put it out. This is what this blog would be about.
You can say that I am being idealistic when I imagine that this blog would make a difference.