How To Deal With Loss

Kalinga Staff
Sep 3, 2018 · 3 min read

In the dim yellow glow of all-year-round-Diwali lights, under a quilted tapestry featuring a giant tree or elephant or any vaguely indie looking splotches of color, amidst scented candles that smell of vanilla and rebellion, perhaps you too will find salvation. It was in those inimitable surroundings that my roommate found hers.

“You broke up with him over text?” As was tradition, the night began with me lecturing her on the immorality of her latest feat. Our Mind and Behaviour readings lay neglected but patient on the bed before us.

“Yes.” She said. “I mean, technically I used text. I didn’t message him if that’s what you mean.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I tagged him in a meme, okay.” She sighed. “What? Don’t look at me like that! I put a lot of thought into it.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Into what? The meme, the comment or the crushing of his heart into itty-bitty pieces?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Seeee.. our relationship began with him tagging me in a meme, so it only seemed fitting that our relationship ends with one too. Don’t give me that look! It was…memeingful. I’m much more distraught than I let on, puns are obviously an indicator of trauma.”

“I’m sure it was emotional for him too.” I frowned. “Especially when you slept with that YIF.”

She looked slightly perturbed by my accusations and returned reluctantly to her readings. After a few minutes of immersion in logic and argumentation, a whisper wafted through the room,

“I mean, it’s all subjective anyway.”

“Sorry?” I asked, startled. I knew the voice couldn’t have come from anyone but her, but it seemed as though the words had emanated from the very walls of our hallowed institution. Like some older, higher power had been woken from its slumber. My roommate repeated herself, louder this time, her voice reverberating with the confidence instilled in her by academia, “It’s all subjective, bro.”

“Are you saying what you did…isn’t objectively wrong?” I said, stunned by the sudden glow her face exuded. Had her acne cleared up?

“What is wrong, what is right?” she murmured sagely. “The principles of ethics are powerful but imperfect generalizations. Rules that might hold occasionally, but tolerate exceptions. We’re all just making non-demonstrative arguments.”

I stared at her mutely. She had brought Non-Demonstrative Arguments into the mix, and that subheading was at least eight pages ahead of where I was in our reading (“What Is An Argument?”).

What Was An Argument? Could I really begin to formulate a comeback if I didn’t know? I felt humbled by the sea of knowledge she swam in, one I had merely dipped my toes into. I felt swayed by her boldness in confidently asserting Something Too Vague and Out of Context to Contest. Out of my depth, I hurriedly returned to my reading, hoping to attain the same enlightenment that coursed through the veins of my roommate.

“Hey so, I guess this means you… forgive your ex-boyfriend?” I asked her, emboldened after conquering a few pages. “The one who cheated on you?”

“What?!” she said. “No Gubs, he was an asshole. Nothing subjective about that at all.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it again, withholding my disapproval of her hypocrisy. If she were to find her Salvation in Subjectivity, I wasn’t going to call her out on her inconsistency. To each their own, I thought solemnly. I scoured through Instagram for the right meme to dump my girlfriend with, proudly realizing that we had both become Higher Beings that day.

“Hey, should I use a loss meme?” I asked my roommate.

“You are such a bitch.”

And thus it was that on that quiet Monday night, I witnessed my roommate weave the ultimate waltz. A tran-scen-dance.

Kalinga Magazine

Kalinga is the battlefield where Ashoka was humbled. In these pages, history repeats itself.

Kalinga Staff

Written by

Kalinga is the battlefield where Ashoka was humbled. In these pages, history repeats itself.

Kalinga Magazine

Kalinga is the battlefield where Ashoka was humbled. In these pages, history repeats itself.

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