The perks of being in Love

Wallflower

Wallflower,  I had been through this idiomatic  word more than a few times while reading a collection of fictions by some Turkish writer, that a friend of Dad had gifted me on my last birthday. Turkish writers are amazing, the way they put up words in a fine manner is just amazing. Elif Sahafak, a turkish writer, is one of the writers I read most. She has collections on sufism so rhetoric that one cannot help going through her novels to the end.
     Wallflower, a pretty good thing to hear, like everyone else I too had guessed it a flower on a wall, like the ones, houses in our town keep for decor. Sitting in a wooden easy chair against the only window in my room, having my eyes on the beautifully lined words.
        We had a small house in almost the middle of the town, with a total of three rooms beside dining and guest room. I had my room in the corner of the house where I would spend most of my time after returning from university. I had always been a voratious reader. I loved my books and so was why There was a book shelf in my room just beside the room door. I had quite properly arranged my books on the shelf.
    So there was this word Wallflower whirling around in my mind. I googled it and managed to discover that it was not merely about  a flower on a wall rather it had an idiomatic meaning. Wallflower interpreted a shy or excluded person with an introverted personality type or in more extreme cases, social anxiety. A person who will attend parties and social gatherings, but will usually distance himself from the crowd and
actively avoid being in the limelight.
God, that thing was so related to me. The more I read on the lines, the more I started knowing I was a wallflower, an actual wallflower not a fictionary one. A wallflower sitting in the middle of the room, staring at the moon that is peeking from the window corner. It was a full moon night high in the sky and here I was sitting high on thoughts. There is nothing pretier than a full moon.The night had spread like a shawl and the moon was wandering to see her. Having lost in that aesthetic night, I never knew when had I broached to the moon about her, and now that it knew all my secrets, it had started wandering in the sky to see her, to find her and that was why that night's moon was so aesthetic, so beautiful. The moon knew all my secrets, it had been my best companion for it never complained to me, never got tired of me, listened to everything I talked about without any interruption. Sometimes we just need someone beside us so that we can lean on his shoulder and talk to him of the inside pain, of the untold myseries. Somtimes we don't need solace, we don't need people to lecture us on how to cope with the all the distress we are afflicted with. Sometimes we don't want to effort to be strong enough to subdue our sufferings rather we merely need someone's shoulder to lean on and weep for hours. This consoles the pain out of us. The moon listened to me the whole night, never complained, never interrupted.