The whole scribbling matter,I had nothing more to say to myself than i had to say to her.That in itself was more disappointing than the beguiling truth behind the withdrawal she led me into.A point between the recent past and today was where our defences should have met in argument.But we had thoroughly been at work,destroying each other's lives and unknowingly making it look simpler by the day.It is hard to accept diligence on part of another person when you are under the impression of being under an impression.What remained ineffaceably constant was the natural winding down of the clock everyday,down to the moment where the kiss goodnight could only leave us for saving.It was quite like holding that empty bottle jar quietly over a ledge in the quiet of the night,waiting for it to not fill with your own personal cause.
Shit Manik. I am sorry for this pain, the emptiness of it. It's harder than a full pain, which there might be an immediate remedy for, like a hospital, or an injection. This was a beautifully written tragedy, the kind we live every day. The schoolhouse where our heart learns its tricks, it's limits, and ultimately itself.
ReplyDelete