Present 6

Decoy World.

I look at the torn diary pages. I hardly write in my diary and I only write if things became too happy to not share and write my heart out or if things become too gloomy so that I write my sadness to bleed on the paper. This time its for the latter one.

I failed to crack the entrance exam and my parents, like most parents came in terms to punish me. They  took my most loved things away which includes my novels, grounded me and also hit me with the most destructive weapon in their arsenal- the silent treatment. I never faced all those things in my entire life. If freedom was a thing, then I thought my mom and dad has bought all of it and gifted it to me but now I have broken their dreams and everybit of feelings seems to be getting faded away.

I lit up another cigarette. I want to GO TO HELL. I want to visit hell and look terrified all the while satan looking into my eyes and feasting upon my soul. I want to visit the atrocious chambers of hell. I have never harmed anything or anyone except myself but why does it sting so much to look into their eyes again? And I want to go to hell for that. I have hurt myself and I don’t want salvation. I have hurt their hearts and I don’t seek redemption, not anymore.

I chose apathy and I have made my heart suffer and this whole concept of self-love is a book I have never opened. It is still sitting in my desk but I failed to read. I shout self empathy but I am a hypocrite. It took me breaking my heart and soul to realize that I am a lot softer and empathetic to other people and other people’s problems and brutally  apathetic to what I suffer, to my burning heart.

I have shattered myself in ways that I didn’t knew existed. I have broken my heart in every unknown corners I visited and I want to come back home. In this moment I want her more than anything. I know she is my home and I want to return in my comfy space. I have always bribed a part of my heart for every journey I started and now my heart and soul are in a debacle. My redemption would be my suffering and deep down I need her to come visit me like an angel and throw this weight off of my heart. My parents are my most beloved ones and when they turn against me I realized she is my savior. She can save me, she will save me.

I look one look at the page again. I know this words have faded away from my heart cause I need her. I read it again.

“I will move on and I will accept the pain of missing you. I will wake up every single day full sound and aware of what I am missing but I will accept the fact that this is my life now and this is how things are going to be and you aren’t coming back. I will speak your name, my heart will speak of our memories but you won’t be here to listen to it. But life will go on, I will hear our favourite songs and smile, I will sleep alone on the sheets where we slept together and I will always cherish how you smelt. I will look back at us and my hands won’t tremble. I will accept the fact that we won’t share a future together and you will live the life we dreamt of, the life you are proud of, become the person you dreamt of becoming and you live and love wholly and with every inch of your half broken heart and all that will happen without you by my side. I will accept the thing that every beautiful thing has an end and there is nothing I can say or do to fix that. Sometimes leaving is an act of love too. That sometimes you have to walk away from something soft and hauntingly real and that sometimes hearts don’t align. But we were incredible and I realized how incredible it was that for a moment in time, in a world of billions, two strangers were in the right place, at the right time, and something as deadly and sweet as LOVE transpired between them. At one point of time we were the lucky ones. At one point of time, we beat the odds”

This page, this whole thing has no meaning left. I can never finish loving her and I needed her back. I lit up the page with the embers of the cigarette butt. I was watching it burn halfway through, when my phone vibrated. It was a call, from her. I knew she would call. This was our time, the night when nothing else prevails except my love for her and her love for me, the time where we sang and danced and did all those things we wanted to do, being so far way from each other but our souls, our souls were together everytime.

I picked it up. We talked; though to be honest I talked and she picked up my worlds like some pearls and beaded into a magical string. I bled my words over the phone, I cried, I howled and I smiled and laughed too.

Hope, hope is a really dangerous thing. It has the power to kill and also the power to save. She was my hope, she could kill me and also she is the only one that can save me. As one of my favorite writers, a.k.a Dracula has written , “If hope were a human, she would be an old woman with gray hair and peachy skin, with eternal silver smile upon her face”. It is only upto that person to smile the silver smile either of warmth and savior nature or a deadly grin.

I took out my diary, put her phone on speaker, she was singing one of my favorite song. I wrote –

Maybe we can never be complete, maybe we will always be a little messed up. Maybe we can never be beautiful as the drawings of Picasso but we will be there, we will prevail, we will be beautiful like the centre of the hurricane. As Dracula once said, “Tomorrow has to live in the shadow of Yesterday”. We will prevail. We have to.