Grieve Future, Grieve.

HERE

I don’t know what a broken heart feels like. Or maybe I do but because I feel it too often, I am incapable to differentiate it from other mere feelings of sadness or hurting. But how can sadness be just ‘mere’? Whenever I’m sad I long for an overwhelming compassion and words that are beyond the amorous movies, beyond this mortal earth. Perhaps that’s what adds to the tragedy, wanting the things I can’t have. Expectation has been my biggest let-down.

I’m afraid of the very same things that I want. Because I don’t know if it is right to want them. Happiness is best if shared, they say. But how about it when there’s nobody to share it with?

Loving someone just got uglier.

When Dreams meet Reality.

I don’t remember his features but he was a fine-looking boy, someone who looked like he came right out of a movie, and would be incredibly out of my league. Imagine my surprise when he came with his brother, who was striking in his own way, and his father to talk to my Father.

I had nothing to say except I kept thinking about KS. I couldn’t wait to get out of the beautiful trap and tell him how this incredibly fine boy wanted me and how my parents were rooting for it. Silence made up for all the things that needed to be said. Then he walked into my dark room and in gradual speed extracted all the truth out of me. He decided to walk away at the unraveling of a ‘startling’ fact that I have someone else in mind. I begged him not to tell my Father and I don’t think he conformed. I’m not sure, but I remember being terrified at the thought of confronting my parents.

I woke up realizing how I had been lying to myself all these time telling myself that my biggest fear was mediocrity when there’s always been something else under the rug.

Hopes underneath the litle lies.

SOURCE

Tonight I’ll be talking to my Father about the vacation that I’m planning on going with KS and his brother. I need his cash and he is not likely to send me off with two boys that are ‘bad influence’. I need a credible excuse (read lie) to deliver, and I'm praying that he doesn’t ask for too many details, he isn’t all that gullible of a parent. So also not my Mother. After that I need to tell Ph and I’m apprehensive about her reaction. She knows about KS and I and pretends like she doesn’t. Because she wants me to believe that she trusts me. After I told her we were only friends and she stopped questioning. Even when there have been numerous instances where she has got a whiff of our liaison. Like one morning she realized I wasn’t home when I had sneaked out to spend the night with Him on the eve of his 21st birthday. It's like we are both waiting for an intervention of some kind, meanwhile faking everything till we get there. A small part of me wishes for her to she ask me just one more time so that I can tell her the truth, of the magnitude of his existence in my life. While the other prominent part is not prepared for any speed bump. Not Yet. And perhaps lying is easier than the possibilities of having being told that this Love is a mistake. My heart wouldn't be able to bear it. You would know.

Of Vodkas and lies.

SOURCE

Vodka has never been a friend to me. Nothing good has materialized from our numerous mingling. But every time I think about her, who I thought was a dear friend, I prefer some more Vodka. When I woke up on his bed with a pounding headache, the text messages on my phone spelt trouble. The ride home seemed longer than usual; perhaps it was my mind delaying the displeasing intervention. Ph had already left for work sparing me from delivering an explanation to her.Relieved as I was, it infuriated me as well. There is nothing more despondent than having to lie about something that you are proud of. It’s not the Vodka or the hangover, but Him. But the backbone of my life is a circle.Welcome aboard.