The Break-Up

Farewell, dear.

We were together in the best of times. And the worst of times. I could not live without you.

You have been a trusted companion. You were with me when I was pulling my hair apart unable to understand my job. You were with me on my holiday in Goa, where we admired the beauty of the sunset together. You didn’t even object when I ogled at the girls there. In fact, you helped me appreciate them better.

You have been completely transparent with me. I could rest assured in the fact that that you would always show me the true picture, irrespective of whether I like it or not. You helped me see things more clearly, and to understand subtleties that were not immediately obvious to me. I trusted you so much that you had me by the ears all the time.

You were the apple of my eye. I spent the better part of the day with you. But I never slept with you. Ours was a platonic relationship and that made it all the more special.

But I abused you. I mistook you to be indestructible, and sadly didn’t realise that you were actually quite fragile. I was so comfortable with you, that I never realized how precious you were. I took you for granted. But you were always there for me.

You tried your best, but you eventually broke. Looking back, I am amazed you held together for as long as you did.

I have moved on. Found myself a newer companion. And if I have learnt anything from our relationship, I would treat this one with more care. At least, I hope to.

Honestly, I wished that our relationship would last longer. But it was not meant to be. And the fault was entirely mine. I had to break up with you.

Farewell, my dear broken spectacles. May your unbroken soul rest in peace.

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PS1: Any rich liquor barons, particularly those who move around in a Maybach with a spare Merc in tow, interested in buying my spectacles, please get in touch through a comment. I try to speak the truth most of the time, and am a decidedly non-violent guy. There is no auction and I won’t ask for millions of dollars. A case of your beer would do.

PS2: I am going home for a week. Home is a place which internet hasn’t corrupted. Yet. So, in case you take the effort of leaving a comment, and don’t find a reply, don’t think I’m being rude.

PS3: And since I am going to be away, here’s a bonus PJ for my dear friends who would miss me... “If you dump a girl and she starts crying, do you call it a break up or a break down?”