HE WAS INSANE .

FACE TO FACE

Have you ever experienced such intense fear that everything of your body just freezes ? A shiver running throughout your whole body and then it goes completely still . You're so lost in what's in front of you that forget to breathe and your heart appears to halt for while . A moment where you badly wish everything and everyone was just a bad dream and hope someone to jerk you awake despite knowing that you'll have to deal with whatever you're going through sooner or later . You wish time to come to a standstill but simultaneously want it to be fast-forwarded to like a hundred million years so you won't be existing to witness all the terror . That's exactly how I felt .

His features had never appeared so prominent before . Nor had I ever seen him up so close .

His lean frame looked so fragile that it seemed to me he was barely standing . Like a balloon taped to the floor , containing matter but negligible enough to be called weightless . He was dressed but I couldn't differentiate between his articles of clothing . It looked like someone had so delicately woven a layer of dark wool all over his body , not bothering to make it separate or appear distinct . His face was still a blur , like a faint memory of a person you knew long ago , who runs in your memory lane with voices and conversations , however , their face isn't quite captured well in your mind .

But his eyes ...

His eyes were so peculiar . Looking lifeless and so full of power at the same time . It was a cloudy mist but had this reddish glow radiating from it as if someone was flashing a torchlight from within . It was somehow very alluring . Like you wanted to look away but ended up gawking at it for the longest time .

I never believed in 'i see the universe in his eyes' or 'eyes tell the truth when everyone else lies' shit . We just find an excuse to see a person the way we think we know him and blame it on the eyes . There wouldn't be crime and betrayal in this world and I wouldn't be having major trust issues if eyes truly displayed reality . But there was something in the way he looked at me , I can't say what it was , that said "it's ok" .

Assurance was something I've really lacked in my life . Every single person I've known has either hated me for who I am , or expressed sympathy at how bad I could get . None of them took any efforts to tell me that it was ok to be what I am or they would stay by my side if I got any better .

I didn't notice when he withdrew his hand from my shoulder . I didn't realise how long I had been staring at him . But now he was standing with his arms dangling on both sides , not increasing the distance between him and me .

I just sat there , unable to act .

I didn't perceive when he had passed a note into my hand .

When I looked down , he abruptly receded from my view . In my hand there was a folded piece of paper with irregular edges , probably torn roughly by hand in haste .

I began unfolding .

It was the first time anyone had ever written something to me . The ink inside seemed to portray a solitary ocean , where me and my friend were the only stranded sailors , trying to come nearer but the waves of doubt teasing us by bringing us closer and then drifting us apart in every alternate moment .

If words could ever reflect regret , they did .

My friend had painstakingly written on that paper which was like a piece of his heart for me .

'Sorry.'