Being in an ecstatic world of our own seems amazing, right!
Rather than living in a world full of harsh disheartening reality, it would be much fascinating if one could live in a world of their own where things go as they want. But what if things d...
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Deception. Manipulation. Betrayal.
Everything is different now. There's so much that has changed, or I have changed my perception of looking at things.
Standing in front of the dressing mirror, when I look at my eyes, I see a fire in them, unlike the shyness that took glances at me. I look at my lips that are chapped and formed into a thin line controlling the sobs, unlike the smile that was ready to form and disperse as a chuckle.
My hair looks messy. Probably because I haven't combed them properly. Is this what we call mourning the absence of true love? As I don't remember suffering like this when I broke up with Miles in high school. We separated on good terms.
But at this stage where I'm standing now, I don't know what Vian's and mine separation to be termed as. We didn't break up in the first place because he suddenly just left.
As far as any ending is concerned, our ending left a hole in my heart because I don't feel the hurt anymore, I feel those questions piling up inside me, one of the biggest- why?
We were doing good, or perhaps just fine. But then also... why?
On 23rd November, moments before the clock striking to twelve when the minute hand and hour hand were going to collide, nothing was going to change except the date. But... He didn't come back, it was not a prank. Everything has fallen apart.
On that day, I found that letter. I found that same flower he used to give me. But for the first time, I wished that he wouldn't give me that flower. That flower on that date felt a slap right across my cheek at how pathetic fool I was.
Everyone knows about the letter and that freaking flower. Every single soul. Yet, only one soul knows that he had left something else too, that day. It never got to me to tell everyone, nor it would have changed anything, it definitely wouldn't bring him back.
The bracelet. His bracelet. The bracelet with the lock charm that I tied on his wrist with my hands while he was looking at me with warm love-filled eyes that I could happily drown in them. That same bracelet which he gifted us just some hours ago before leaving me, before his last surprise. It was just lying on the kitchen counter of his own house. Unnamed. Untagged. Belonging to no one.
Fondling with my thoughts, every time a flickering light passes through me as I made assumptions about its specialty. For instance, I thought, he wouldn't gift me a thing if he wanted to leave a few hours later. What if he was in some problem? What if his dad decided to crawl into his life back and destroy him again. Destroy us?
But we promised to fight him together. We promised to face everything together. But what about the beforehand planning? If he was hurt, how could he take all his belongings with him? It was all planned. I should feel pathetic about myself and not for anyone else for a change. Or think about someone other than myself. Uh... I should stop thinking in particular.
