I toooook a long break, Yes the ‘took’ has 5 o’s, and yes I took a long break. I know I know, I’ve been saying this for a while, but it is hard for me to decide. With god’s grace I have got a job, friends I can rely on. and finally found love of my life, or have I? But still, something is missing. But what is it?
I lay down thinking, thinking about that friend who pushed me over the cliff, not because he hated me, but for me to feel the wind over my face, to smash my body over the ocean of my thoughts,
I know I’ve been on and off in this relationship with you, but you know you are my home, ’cause even after I wander and roam to places, I come back to you. You are my escape, but when you get to close, you are a jail. It’s hard for me to survive my own thoughts, sometimes I ignore, but how long can I run from myself
So I let them soak in, deep. Only the positive ones though, ’cause you are a spectator, viewing the trails of thoughts passing by, only to turn the light green for the thoughts to get to you, not to be submerged in the darkness of our own flipped side.
I feel sometimes that my creativity is diminishing, I see new people, with their talent, their immerse engrossing talent, and I am mesmerised, but a little scared; too. I think it’s my lowered self confidence, or my tiny self esteem knocking me back in the stomach, twisting my intestine, begging for my courage to show up. I really don’t know what I am afraid off. The people? My friends? My family? Or my own self? I feel sometimes that this insecurity is just in my head, that this Wallflower will bloom not just in early springs, but anytime, vanishing my existence.
Do you remember the first time we spent the night, your breath touching mine, and I could hear you heart beat so loud that I could hardly feel mine. I remember that time, you touched, I know I was afraid, but more than me, you were worried. You never wanted to hurt, do you?
But now that’ it’s over, I feel the sufferings I gave you. I know that I was at fault and I shouldn’t have done what I did, and, you were so nice that you never really accused me. I am so sorry, I really am.
But it’s been sometime, and now I realise; you loved me enough to let me go.
You are alone in a crowded place, you see your friends in a corner drinking cheap beer and laughing, you want to go there, but you don’t want to go there. You are tired of their shabby comments on your looks, tired of their opinion of what you seem to do in life. It feels like they are crossing the boundaries, taking control of things that belong to your persona. “Hey Samara, over here“, you are too late, they call you over to share their drinks. Alas! how do you tell, you don’t like the taste of that cheap beer, and you hate their mean comments.
Myra rushed to her dorm room and closed the door abruptly. She stood in front of the mirror and gazed at the reflection which was so horrified that she could not recognize her own self. Dark lipstick, big eyelashes, smudged eyeliner and smeared mascara, she was looking horrible.
She stared at the mirror for more than a moment and started talking to herself. “What have I done to Myself. This is not me. I look like a whore dabbed in powder and color, who has lost her name, her identity.” she took out Shrey’s handkerchief, looked at it and used it to wipe the black tears off her face.