The veritable reality of the reasons that once clouded her
judgement, and played her as easily as a game of cards, became as clear to her
as a crystal; there is no yearning now, to get back what is gone. But there is
a wish, to get back that mental peace, which tethered her to him. There is a
vulnerability, which is not more than an effect of a humiliation, by the
ignorance of a man she held in high regard and spurned the likelihood of him
ever, ever hurting her.
As she declared her feelings to him, she started to shake to the
hysterical throb of her heart. It was an extremely cold feeling, of being
abandoned by your own flesh and blood. The emotions were so overpowering, that
she was stricken into a sobbing mess as he said "It's ok".
"I just don't understand
this", she said.
"I absolutely know how it
feels." He said.
"I don't want to be a part
of your life anymore." She said angrily, as she cried her heart out, but
not meaning a word of it.
And he abandoned her, just like
that.
Wasn't it the cruelest thing, to awaken so much love without any
intention to do so? What a tragedy it was, she thought, to perceive things as
they were. A bright conniving smile, tales of the memories that revived love
and hope, and signs, that meant everything; yet, nothing. She wonders, if the
language that he spoke had a different dialect than what she had interpreted.
And if all along they were not only on two different pages, but also characters
of two unquestionably antithetical stories. That love was never hers to keep.
Because the girl he loves is not her. And this is a sublime echo of a past that
lingers on for hours, the one that she wished to return from, but would not
dither to get back to at the first gesture.
And now she must live in a world
where she would be triggered by the memories where he would tender the best
advice, and cry sometimes, knowing that he is never going to be there ever
again. All that she did now, is going to be...just different.
It was in these moments that
she learned what made her bleed, what tattered her soul, and what tainted her
cheeks. She was not flushed this time or hardhearted as he called her. She was
standing tall at the altar, engulfed in a funereal atmosphere, ready to
sacrifice; yet again. It was in these moments, that denial pervaded every
neuron, every cell of hers, that hope became inevitable. It was in these
moments, that there was bewilderment so strong that no question matched its
answer.
She had been part of a movie
for the better part of these 4 years, and the theater had been eerily empty all
this while. Because who would watch Sisyphus rolling a huge rock up a steep
hill? It wasn't worth it in the end.
And now, two angels have fallen
to the ground.
But the thing she should
remember is that, love just happens, and that loving someone is the most
beautiful thing in the world. But sometimes, people part their ways. Their
stories change. And eventually everything transforms. She longs to die, if only
she could rise again, like a candle in a pouring rain, transformed, to a
flickering lamp in a pouring rain.
The music inside is still ringing;
she is in disbelief, because things that mattered once, don't now. And she is
sorry, for what was, and not is.
