Silent Love

| 27 |

Sidharth

After getting off the call, I'd be a fool to even think of falling asleep.

Groaning in frustration, I chugged off my clothes and walked into the shower to get some help with that. While I struggled to put a name or reason to my annoyance, the cold water easily slipped down my back.

Reeling a deep breath in, I tried to focus all my attention on what was running through my body and less on my mind. That was a technique I had managed to master whenever I felt clueless. I was someone who proclaimed. to have an idea about everything, but that, like many things in my life, had evidently changed in the past few weeks.

Since I knew that my thoughts were in a very toxic place right now and that if I pondered on them, I would just end up thinking about the wrong things, and thereby react in a reckless manner, I thought it fit to temporarily seek a distraction.

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was her. Generally, the idea of her staying on my mind all day long was appeasing, to say the least, because I loved watching her smile, watching her alive in front of me. I loved being as close to her as possible, even if it was just psychologically. But right now, it wasn’t so.

It was not my anger that made it intolerably painful for having her in my thoughts. It was fear. Because now, she was no longer smiling down at me from whilst peeking out from the duvets, as in my dreams, she looked like she was inches away from terror and completely oblivious to the fact that the danger was soon going to consume her. I was angry that someone could hurt her and I was miles away. I was powerless.

After spending a good thirty minutes in the shower, not actually showering but merely staring at the wall, I decided that it was a bad substitute to look for answers. The most it could do would be to reflect and definitely not provide the answers that I was looking for. After patting myself dry, it didn’t take long for me before I emerged out of the bathroom fully clothed. Right then, my eyes caught the sight of my phone.

Closing my eyes for a brief second, I sighed out in exasperation and fell down on my bed. Clutching my head in my hands, I groaned in disappointment. There you go, that was another emotion that I was feeling. I was disappointed.

Not at her. But at myself.

I essentially placed her in an impossible situation and blamed her for not handling it well. What else could she do? Of course, she was overwhelmed. I knew that about her. I knew that she couldn’t handle stress well, and when placed in a rather difficult situation, she might not emerge with a victory.

And of course, as she said, she had no training in this. This was not her area of expertise. She had no experience with lying and deceiving. She was not like me. This was not a part of her job. If I hadn’t come into her life, this would never have been a part of it in the first place. Although her words and previous accusations hurt me, I knew what I did was far more out of character for me. I should have handled it better. Hanging up on her? I wasn’t a ten year old. I was two decades older than that I ought to have behaved my age.

Naturally, I was still feeling eerily disappointed, and even borderline angry at her for using my guilt, time and again, for defending her point. She was right, I believed I had no weakness, but I did. Guilt was my one big weakness. And she was well aware of that. She was aware of that even before I was enlightened of it.

Despite that, she managed to accuse me of deceiving her every chance she got, thereby throwing me into pain that I was already struggling with. It was perhaps not her intention to hurt me that way, but she ought to have been careful with her words, especially when she knew that I was not comfortable with it. Her not mentioning it won’t make me feel any less guilty about it, I was always going to remember it, whether she wanted me to or not. But every time she chooses to remind me of it, it’s going to hurt me far more than she’s imagining it.