Life, always does not work out the way we desire it to be. As some fucking genius said, “there needs to be a lot of adjustments and alterations all along.” Well, let me be completely honest and tell you that this is a true story. ‘Nothing officially fictional about it.’ I am weirdly passionate in my own way, I don’t give up on things and on a person easily. In fact, I never have barring a few instances.
It had been a few years, to be honest, many years since I was trying to move on. Move on from a pair of eyes so enchanting to save the world from all the misery. She was, perhaps, never meant to be mine. I was coming to terms with it. It was fucking hard, but yet I was trying. It was like an addiction and I had to join a rehab centre of my own to get rid of her insanely charismatic impressions. Man, she was legendary. Anyway, I was trying to move on and I had succeeded, to be quite honest. Although, I never gave up on her. Then , came a reason to hide her deep beneath my impotent heart’s membrane. A reason to move on. A reason to not succumb to the logic of not loving her. A new reason with a pair of eyes that catapulted me to a new life. Indeed, she was beautiful and I never compared her with anyone. People are quite different and unique in their own manner. They should never be compared, leave alone even the thought of it.
So, there I was sitting on my desk in some polite office space in some crappy old city listening to music that helped me heal. I turned around and became wounded again. She was right outside my cabin penetrating her charm through the glass window across the floor. There was nothing that I had not felt before and yet it was spectacularly up-heaving. She did not even notice me, should have expected that. People usually do not take note of mentally psyched up, dormant and silence loving, tormented writers like me. It was like my fucking mind had a lens inside and had stolen those set of pixels at that moment and decided to make me go insane. The quota of my shyness and ingratitude towards the gorgeous lot was erased and rebooted. I was raring to go, but a war veteran just like a love-incapacitated soul is hesitant to roar again and spread his fucking wings.
I waited and waited till my impatience saturated beyond my capacity. I had to confess and yet I did not have to. Romance is a poison for writers like me, makes us disabled. The thrillers turn into crappy love-enhanced, drug- induced plots which I did not want to and yet all the hormones inside my body were scolding me.
“Move on, bro.”
Fourteen years ago, I had stepped into the unknown at a young age confessing my love to the lady I had thought would never leave me. Well, as I said life is a fucking Pandora’s box, you don’t get to choose. And now, there I was, a week after I had seen her, trying to communicate through my constant stares that I felt something divine for her. She was, in fact, still is something unexplainable. And, trust me I am quite good at painting a picture with my words.
My mind said. ” It’s not going to happen. It’s impossible.”
Some unknown hormone inside my body longing for love quietly turned silent and spoke after a few minutes. “Doesn’t matter, it’s necessary.”
I stood there, smiling at her across the glass window, she turned around and smiled. The reason had smiled.
I told myself again.