Happy Reading Tulips.
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As the night stretches its dark, starless blanket across the sky, I walk through the familiar streets, bathed in a silence only the late hours bring. There's a strange comfort in the stillness, an embrace of solitude that has accompanied me for as long as I can remember. Darkness is no stranger; it's an old friend that whispers secrets only I can hear. Wasoolie, my loyal companion, pads beside me, his soft, rhythmic footsteps barely audible against the quiet hum of the city.
The streets are nearly empty, save for the occasional flicker of streetlamps casting their uneven light on the damp pavement. The shadows seem to lengthen, stretching like long-forgotten memories, and the city feels like a ghost of itself—alive, but not entirely present. My mind drifts to the same place it always does: a deep, aching sense of loneliness that nothing seems to fill. The people I share a house with may call themselves my family, but the walls between us feel impenetrable, like an invisible prison that I can never escape.
I pull my jacket tighter around me as the first few raindrops begin to fall. Their cool touch on my skin is a stark contrast to the heat of my internal turmoil. Soon, those soft drops evolve into a downpour, the rain crashing against the pavement like my unspoken thoughts. The wetness seeps through my clothes, chilling me to the bone, but I welcome it. The cold brings clarity. It makes the lines between reality and my thoughts blur even further, and for a moment, it's hard to tell if the water running down my face is from the rain or the tears I've held back for so long.
The city, usually alive with its chaotic energy, now feels muted. The rain has hushed its usual symphony, and I'm left with only the sound of droplets and my own thoughts. The streets gleam under the lamplight, their wet surfaces reflecting a distorted version of the world. Everything seems skewed, and yet, this distorted version feels more honest than the life I lead.
I glance down at Wasoolie, who trots faithfully beside me, unaffected by the rain. His eyes meet mine, filled with an understanding no human has ever shown me. His silent companionship is the only warmth I feel tonight, and I offer him a small smile in return. But even that feels like an effort—forcing joy into a moment that is anything but joyful. My mind is a storm, and no amount of rain can cleanse the bitterness that clings to my heart.
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YOU ARE READING
𝙼𝚢 𝙰𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎: 𝙴𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 & 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎
Romance𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒋𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑹𝒂𝒋𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒚, 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑹𝒖𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒃𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒗. 𝑹𝒖𝒉𝒂𝒏...