Of Great Love

* Originally published in ‘The Insider‘.

The Love Story, by adriana-craciunescu

A couple of weeks ago, I accompanied my parents on what seemed a routine visit to see some old friends of theirs. David and Anna were an elderly British couple – Anna was probably in her 60s, her husband David probably in his 70s – and they were both delightful. For almost two hours we all laughed, joked and conversed with each other, and it was almost easy to ignore the silent 6th companion sitting with us all the way through: Anna’s cancer, which by now had spread through almost her entire body, leaving her in a wheelchair. I spent the evening mostly listening to these two as they chatted with my parents, recalling their many previous visits to Sri Lanka and vowing that this would not be their last. “We’ll be here next January with our kids” said David, firmly, winking at me.

Our ride home was long and it gave me the time to plug in my ipod, stare out the window and ruminate – one of my favourite pastimes. I switched on my phone and sent my best friend a quick text: “Sigh. I can’t wait to grow old with someone”. I then settled back in my seat, puzzled by my own words and feelings.

I’ve always been a little crazy for passion. From Enid Blyton to Margarett Mitchell, there’s been one kind of love story that has always attracted me more than others. As a child, I watched Beauty and the Beast – the story of a young woman who enters into an agreement with a monster she learns to love – with a sort of terrified enchantment. As I grew up, the stories became more life-like, more advanced and the conflicts became more complex, but it was always that heated, troubled passion that I looked for: that dark, dangerous love. Jane Eyre and her gruff, mysterious Rochester; Scarlett’s sometimes searing, sometimes freezing affection for Rhett; and, inexplicably, my favourite – Cathy’s devastating love for her dark, mad Heathcliff. Continue reading Of Great Love

Carols, friends and moving on


I’m having fun again. Haha. Finally! The thrill of it made me want to giggle madly as I walked to work today, listening to Christmas carols for the first time for the year. I avoid local radio in any case, but I make an even more pronounced effort during November and December because hearing those godawful popped-up carols-on-acid never fail to kill my Christmas buzz. So it’s always special when I put on my standard Christmas CD – Carols sung by the Choir of King’s College Cambridge – and drink in those first strains of divine choral music. ‘Ding Dong Merrily On High’ and it made me literally shudder with delight, happy to be alive and in this moment. That feeling was accompanied by another – a sensation of being slightly shocked to be feeling this way and after such a long time.


As I walked on towards work, trying vainly to stifle my grin, I thought about the people I’ve been meeting lately. Happy people, full of energy, refusing to be dragged down by all the stuff they’ve got going on. I love people like that. They inspire me, and make me even more eager to get rid of my blues. And though it’s only been a few days, I feel like I’ve made more progress than I’ve made in the past few months. These people may or may not know who they are but for what it’s worth, I just wanted to send a big THANKS out into the void. Continue reading Carols, friends and moving on

Love will tear us apart. Again.


Love Will Tear Us Apart – Susanna and the Magical Orchestra

When routine bites hard
And ambitions are low
And resentment rides high
But emotions won’t grow
And we’re changing our ways
Taking different roads
Then love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again

Why is the bedroom so cold?
Turned away on your side
Is my timing that flawed?
Our respect run so dry
Yet there’s still this appeal
That we’ve kept through our lives

And love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again

Do you cry out in your sleep
All my failings exposed?
Get a taste in my mouth
As desperation takes hold?
How is it something so good
Just can’t function no more?

When love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again





To this man: Goodbye.



What a difference a day made.


Funny how it can all change from one moment to the next.


I still can’t believe how happy I was… then. There’s a line now. A big fat line that divides everything into ‘before’ and ‘after’, ‘then’ and ‘now’. A line that spells disaster and taunts you with its blurriness. You wonder if that moment that you’ve picked out was actually the moment. Or whether it had been coming all along and you had been so deliriously happy that hadn’t wanted to see it there. Strange how happiness can blind you, set you up to fall. How cruel is that?


And now after all the deliberations, after all the pushing and pulling and running away and running back only to run away again, it’s over. Just one, ugly word: over. And there’s no one there to lash out at when all the rage boiling under the surface finally spills over and burns. No one to cry to when you feel so devastated you can’t breathe. No one to hear the words that keep throbbing behind your eyes, stinging tears out of them. “I miss you”. Continue reading What a difference a day made.