The Coin Has Two Sides

There is something funny about love. Sometimes, life has a wicked sense of humour. You can spend months telling someone, “I’m fine,” only to eventually meet the version of yourself that is anything but fine. I used to be the quiet one. The one who could go hours without calling. The one who believed that texting “How are you?” was a perfectly reasonable substitute for hearing somebody’s voice. The one who could love you deeply and still somehow communicate it like a government circular. And maybe I didn't understand what that felt like from the other side. Until now. Funny how distance can turn a normal day into a negotiation with your emotions. Now I miss you. I want to hear your voice. I want to know how your day went. I want to ask about the little things I would normally pretend aren't important. And suddenly, communication isn't just communication anymore. It is reassurance. It is presence. It is that little reminder that despite the distance, I am still somewhere inside your day. And here's the part that makes me laugh at myself: The person who once complained that someone wanted too much attention is now quietly wondering why the attention isn't coming. Life has a sense of humour. Perhaps this is what people mean when they say, “You will understand when you get there.” Well... I have arrived. And I understand. But there's another thing I've learnt. When two people have history, silence doesn't always sound like silence. Sometimes silence sounds like punishment. Sometimes a delayed response feels like a message. Sometimes a missed call becomes a whole paragraph in your head. And sometimes you start wondering: “Is this really how she feels now?” “Is she busy?” “Is she protecting herself?” “Or is she simply giving me a taste of my own medicine?” The dangerous thing about love is that we are very good at writing stories when we don't have the facts. We take a missed call and write a tragedy. We take a short reply and write a breakup. We take distance and call it indifference. Meanwhile, the other person might simply be living their day. Maybe that's why love requires more conversation than assumption. Because sometimes the person you're accusing of withdrawing is actually waiting for you to come closer. And sometimes the person you think is punishing you is simply tired of being the only one reaching. I don't know which one it is. But I know this: Something has changed in me. I used to think loving someone was enough. Now I'm beginning to understand that sometimes love has to learn how to communicate in the language the other person can actually hear. And maybe that's the real irony. Sometimes you don't realize what someone needed from you until you finally need it from them. The coin has two sides. And perhaps this time, life has simply flipped mine over. I am looking at the other side now. And, honestly? I finally understand what it says.

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