I am lying on my bed. Breathing. There was a strange silence in the air and everything felt numb. I could listen to my breath, as I inhaled and then exhaled with a faint sigh in my tone. It was the year 2020. I can't exactly remember the date, but honestly, I didn't even try to.
My life was stuck between the two attached rooms, where one was smaller than the other.
The feeling of solidarity and loneliness has broken me. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and there, at that very link, I lost everything. My will to speak, to think and to create were all crashed, causing sufferings and vain. The decisions were mine, but they affected everyone. Slowly, I was drowning in a pool of tears, where the right to cry felt like a blurred desire.
I got up from my bed, pressing my heels against the wooden flooring of my bedroom. Dim yellow lights, fairy lights and dream catchers increased the attraction of my room, while the dark hollow wounds repulsed my soul. I walked towards the full length mirror placed beside the single window of my room.
I moved closer to the mirror to look at my eyes. They were swollen, red and filled with sleep. I don't feel pity for myself, not even a little bit. My brain has also started to accept such pains. For me, these things were not new at all. I have been through a lot. But this time, it was all strange, different, it wasn't me. I've changed. Years have passed, sad to happy, to sad again. But now, this cycle feels miserable.
If I could skip this, then where would it have ended? Would I be happy? Or would everything be just a dream? Yes, this situation, my loneliness, all would just be a dream.
It is supposed to be a love story, right? Then, why am I here, all alone? Why am I doing this? Why can't happiness accept ME? Why?
I was able to survive all the stages of pain with increasing age and height, but now, I don't feel like surviving. I don't feel like moving to the next level. I am tired. Tired of losing..... everything.
The photographs were perfectly arranged on an antique shelf. Baby Ahaana, smiling Ahaana and no Ahaana. The last picture was of Sir and his whole team, Teen-Tech. I was also there, but nobody knew until the award show. The biggest award show.
I instructed my brain to not bring back those memories. I shook my head and sat down on the floor. My eyes fell on the drawer of the side table. The place where I used to keep my diary, my grandfather's diary.
And at that moment, my brain said, "Maybe it's too late now."
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Hey my lovely readers. First of all, thankyou for giving this story a chance. I hope you liked the prologue, the very beginning from where the story actually begins.☀️👀
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Major Song Recommendation: A LETTER TO MY YOUNGER SELF- Ambar Lucid
I hope your journey with this story be as worth reading as the prologue itself!✨
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An-EXIT
Teen Fiction'You're afraid of the things, You never thought you ever would be!' Ahaana Jaiswal, a girl buried in the layers of her suffocating past memories, chooses a profession which she never desired. Gadgets and robots, a bachelor's degree in Electrical and...
