Picking out the Shards

   Once everything was scattered in front of her and all the pieces lay on the floor beneath her, she went in pieces with them too. And for hours altogether, all the pieces stayed there, grieving. But life has to go on, and there's always show time. For her, every morning is show time. So she gathered herself up, and while she was doing that, she came to realize that the other pieces just didn't make sense anymore. The edgy, painful shards were just really random memories that still hurt as much, but somehow ceased to matter. All they did was pierce her soul, again and again. She began trying to put the pieces back together. But she ended up hurting herself. Such were the fragments. Randomly scattered. Which didn't make sense.

   She had begun to realize that she was aboard a ship which was sure to sink. She had drowned down her ego, friends, work, family, commitments all unknowingly, only idolizing him. Trying to keep him aboard. But the ship was still sinking and she knew nothing can save the ship anymore. And she knew there were lifeboats. The ones she was choosing to ignore all this while. And she knew it was time to act before it was too late. The book had to move ahead. The page had to be turned. And everything in the past was just a lesson. Going back in the past was allowed only for reference. And she knew all this. 

  But she kept on questioning herself, 'What about those promises?' 'What happened to forever ever after?' 'What if he still loves me?' 'What if he decides to come back?' But she knew all the answers in the hearts of her heart. Promises are made only when both people involved are unsure of the setting. There is no forever ever after. Ever. He never loved her. He was never there in the first place to ever leave, or come back for that matter.

   Her eyes were finally taking in the mess that her life had become. And she knew it was time to do some cleaning. She had seen people walk off out of their mess, leaving the other people involved in that deep shit. They would casually locate to new territories. But to her, Cleaning up made so much sense. It washes off the grime and crime, off your hands. And what needed the most cleaning was her conscience. She needed to get over her guilt trip. The guilt she felt towards herself, mostly. So she spilled it all out. Her escape. Her Wonderland. The Vivid Memories. She had to leave her eternal escape behind. Get out of the vicious whir and blur. Because all of it didn't matter or make sense anymore.She knew she had to start rolling the film again. And of all the things she had to do, She knew getting herself a new film roll was the most crucial.

- ThatGirl.Again

Oblivion of Obsession

   She keeps it all stacked together. His words and memories and every beat that she missed while being around him. It's her box of guilty pleasures. And she revels in them so often. Sometimes by choice, but most times a wave comes and drowns her into the sea. He is the anchor that holds her down and keeps her there. And she can hold her breath as long as she knows he will be around. She has known love and she knows it doesn't hold u down. She knows how much of a junkie she has become while satiating her desperate need of him. He is her addiction; though she knows there's rehab; and she is on her way to find it.

    She laughs at herself a lot these days. Doing what she did. Fighting. Struggling. To surpass his standards, to receive his 100% approval, to impress, to gain attention. Her efforts were like that of a butterfly trying to please a flower, while everyone else in the periphery was in awe with the butterfly. And so was the flower. But the flower was just too colorful to clearly express it. It was all so beautiful once, back then. Starry quite nights on the rooftop on drizzly nights. Electric currents fusing through warm bodies. Never ending stories and cosy comfortable silences. He knew every expression of her too well. he could almost read her heart written all over her face. In just a glance. And he was one of the very few who could. And may be the only one who cared enough to do. And showered her in soft caresses in return. He knew she was an open book. And he knew she meant everything she said. He even knew she meant it, clear and direct, when she asked to be left alone.

     She sat on those stone steps with everything scattered around her. All the memories strewn across the surface going down hill. And she realized. It's not him. It's not him at all. It's the memories. Those beautiful pictures painted in her head. Only memories. Mere memories in all their grandeur. The movie that keeps on replaying at the back of her head. Only because she knows the movie has stopped progressing abruptly. And it wont anymore in a positive direction. Hung in mid air. Only because it hurts looking him right in the eye and fighting the urge to run to him and be enveloped in the security of his arms, resting assured to be not judged or or looked upon with wrath. But everything ends, all movies do. Some movies have weird endings and so do some lives. She knows the onset of memories will ebb some day and gradually vanish. And eventually there will be someone with stronger arms, who would read her face better. 

Must listen to: Still by Daughter (If You Leave)

- ThatGirl.Again