Maze of Distorted Self infliction

   She was tattered. From the inside and out; only by putting everyone's lives ahead of hers. And she thought that was love. What feigned from her cognizance was the fact that it was the lack of love for her own self. And one can only love fulfillingly when they are completely at peace with their own self. The one truth she never grasped. She had given up on patching the tatters up, rather, she had fallen in love with caressing the texture of it. Falling in love with a number of  things so often, had become a habit.

   The disheveled face she had started to carry on the outside? Oblivion. Towards self integrity. But why did she let herself tear and rot away? The pain of separation and desperation. The guilt of breaking people. A maze of distorted self infliction. The frequency of her fainting spells and tears were at its' peak.  Balled in a corner bawling so often, for something that she hasn't done, neither is she responsible for. 

   At the end of the day he still says: Never did she care, neither will she do. He too, lives in oblivion. Oblivion to acceptance. She's punishing herself for whatever it is that she did; yet unaware of her faults. She seems to be frolicking in the guilt of his sadness. Such are facades. And she expects he will run away from her. If he looks in the mirror, the misery of her actions, should make him run away. He must run away. The mirror worked for her.
   A reality check was enough of a push for her. All she needed to do was look in the mirror. The answer to all her troubles was right there staring back at her. With empty eyes bruised under and broken skin, the reflection longed for freedom. And the misery, the moment of truth, made her decide to run away and never look back. Ever.

                                                                      

                                                                                                                      - ThatGirl. Again

Mirage of a War

   The stark normalcy of each day is like a piercing scream in a silent night. Such high contrasts to what has been going on in the depths of two souls. The pretense of nothingness is worse than the chaotic drama she is habituated to each day. To be hurt in love is inevitable, but then it was clear that war always brought destruction. An ally's strike was always that. But she never knew that pain could make you smile and being loved could be unfulfilling too. All at the same time. A little seems a lot when replaced with nothingness. A lot is made to look like it's nothing because, Pretense. And the silence of it all, in an intimate territory with no boundaries, yet so far; leaves behind destruction of no measure.

  And yet again, she gets to watch all of it, the drama and him, slip away, ever so slowly, like a lightening flash; it will all be gone. And loss is such that, it leaves behind destruction in it's wake. The one who leaves might suffer from nostalgia, but is otherwise unperturbed. He's heading to  new world, either out of choice or consequence and there's no reason or time to look back. The ones left behind, among the same walls, breathing the same air, walking the same gravel; the ones left behind are the ones who would grieve. She knows that once someone leaves, they can never come back. And she knows grieving is unfruitful. Futile. 

   But she also knows she has always emerged out of distress. And even if it takes time, she will manage to get out of this one and joke about it.  But before that, there will be adequate drama, boatloads of tears and quite a few blackouts. And she is preparing her armours. She is set for the war, which will not only bring destruction, but smiles of horribly unreasonable nature.

                     - That Girl.Again