You’ve heard only of Kaya up until today but now you will hear of me. You see, I didn’t have a name and one is nothing and no one without a name. She’s stronger of the two of us and I was always the silent spectator.
You see I’m the brain and she thrives in the heart. And she always gets what she wants.
I was alone until the first slice on the wrist three years and seventy two days back. And from the haze of that first manipulated endorphin rush, Kaya was born. Kaya, sweet Kaya.
Kaya is my idealistic alter ego who lives in a constant state of irrational faith and hope. Stubborn and fiercely positive. She never gives up. Blind faith in people and blind faith in love.
How do you convince someone so naïve and obstinate that the root of all their beliefs is nothing but a lie. People don’t care, love takes hard work, the kind of hard work nobody’s ready to invest in these days. Men lie through their teeth and women patiently wait to see your fall. Everybody hides behind a façade of fake smiles and promises. The world is dark place but no, Kaya believes the world truly is sunshine and rainbows where nice boys don’t lie, and women empower and uplift the other.
Perhaps I’m being too much of a cynic.
Sometimes I’m fascinated by how stark different we are and still occupy the same vessel. The same heart beats and brings us to life, the same blood pulses through our veins.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t have the responsibility of keeping her grounded, always having to pick up the pieces she leaves trailing behind when things fall apart. Always the party pooper, the warning signs. But we are two parts of a whole and I must protect her.
Until the other day, I didn’t have a name. Kaya laughed with glee when she first heard it. It fits like a glove. Katya. Origins, Russian. I find it sinister. Of course, a perfect name for her cold subconscious. But I’ll admit, I like it. The name is almost threatening and yet perfectly normal, short and sweet.
Love for Kaya is sunshine and puppies, flowers and kisses every morning before parting for the day’s work. I believe love is in forgiveness, understanding and adjustments. It’s fucking up and apologizing and getting past it. Ugly fights and ugly tears and surviving it because at the end of the day, there’s someone who has seen it all and chooses to be with you, sees your potential and in a world where another’s failure is something to celebrate, they want to see you grow and be the best version of you. Love is not giving up when things start to get ugly, love is putting in effort because you have faith and tired but happy smiles, tight hugs.
Sometimes I wonder how we love the same men and how they love us back.
Perhaps it’s good that I have Kaya. It seems I’m not the cynic I often think of myself to be. I do hope for happy endings. Her unshakeable faith and positivity rubs off on me from time to time. Perhaps the only reason why I let myself relax is because I have her. Perhaps I need her as much she needs me.
But the heart that holds us both is shattering slowly after the longest time and I can feel Kaya spiralling. Her thoughts are beginning to sound almost like mine. She’s scared and she’s starting to give up. Her strength is draining. It’s terrifying and it’s killing me.
I must protect her and save her. I must save us.