The war has ended.

“Everybody knows that the war is over. Everybody knows that the good guys lost.” – Sigrid

Day one.

She felt the walls around her collapse, her eyes refused to dry, her lips could not stop quivering, and she was unable to move. So, she sat on the floor, her back against the bathroom door and cried as she read over and over the text her boyfriend’s sister had sent. She felt numb, and in pain at the same time. The tears wouldn’t stop, and she just could not gather enough strength to text back. This wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t leave her like this.

How could he?

They had just spoken an hour ago. He had told her things that he had never said before, and one of those things was that he loved her. And it felt like he meant it. She had believed him and so she had spent the time after, just smiling and thinking of him. The days ahead seemed to be happy, because she thought he would be with her. Now, everything was dark. She did not know what she would do when she could move, and she did not know if she would move. Her heart was beating but she didn’t feel alive.

She closed her eyes and saw him standing near the elevator, a smile on his lips on the day she had first seen him. He was looking at her and had no intention of keeping it a secret. She remembered him walking up to her and telling her that she was beautiful. He made it sound like something she could believe in. And so that day, when she stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself, she saw that she was. It was a new feeling, and it made her feel warm and loved.

She opened her eyes as the image of his smile burned through the tears, and made the pain unbearable. She read the text again. Was this really it? She knew she would not love any other guy the way she had loved him. She heard his voice, a low whisper of the past, telling her he loved her too. And that made it possible for her to get up. She had to see him. She somehow stood up, and saw the mess she had become in the mirror above the sink. Her eyes wet with black mascara smeared around it.

She started the tap, and water gushed out which she cleaned her face with. Tears still fell as she washed her face. And so she gave up. She closed the tap, and fumbled to open the door. Her hands were shivering, and her veins felt like ice was flowing through them. She put on a jacket even though it was sunny outside. As she walked out, she read the message one last time before she put the phone in her pockets and turned the cold knob on the main door. She knew he had cancer, but no.

“He’s gone.”

Day fifty-six.

She’s okay. She survived. But her old-self did not. She has a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and words that mean nothing. She keeps everyone who loves her at a ‘safe distance’. She is still fighting in a war that had been lost months ago.

“That’s the trouble with humans; we never see when the war has ended.” – Erin Van Vuren


Previous post : The one with women.
Related post : Hope and caution.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

Life.

Life is a bright sun, but it is also a tornado. These are not real stories, but the problems are real. Also, these are two different stories. I hope we survive. Instagram handle: @myspirals


She was only eleven when this had happened. It was a sunny afternoon and she wanted to play with her friends in the park. While playing Hide and Seek, her friends hid here and there and she was alone in the park, skipping and hopping excitedly as she looked for her friends. It seemed to be a good day. While running towards a bush where she thought her friends were hiding, she tripped and scraped her knee. Tears wetted her cheeks as a few drops of blood trickled down her knee. A guy in about his thirties, saw her crying and walked up to her. He consoled her and took her to his house to see the injury.

He used a piece of cloth and rubbed her knee with it to remove the blood, and she gasped because of the pain. Slowly, he started rubbing her thighs and when she tried to back away, he held her leg tightly in place “Let me take care of you.”. He touched her inner thighs and smiled as he moved closer to her area and her eyes dilated with fear. This wasn’t right. She screamed but he used the piece of cloth to tie her mouth. His fingers touched her in places that she now refers to as scars.


He was twenty-one. Life seemed to be a frolic in the park, happy and delightful. He had a mother and two sisters, and he loved them to death. They lived in a small part of the city. He went out to buy food for his family, when out of nowhere, something blew a hundred kilometers away. Almost in succession, there was two more blasts a little to the east of it. He had no idea what was happening, but he ran anyway. Not away from the blasts, though. Towards them. That’s where his house was and that’s where his family was. After running for ten minutes at full pace, he opened the door to his house as his heavy breathing slowed a bit. They were safe.

He took hold of their hands and asked them to hurry as they ran away from the monstrous blasts. They hurried towards the sea where a lot of people seemed to be headed. He saw boats and sighed in relief. They got on the boat and saw their home turn to smoke and dust as they moved away from the catastrophe. Refugees. Where were the refugees headed? Towards lonely hearts and no home.


If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.

Previous post: Empty hearts.
Related post: This damn world.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

Wake up call.

I’ve made the official Instagram handle for this page (@myspirals). Do follow and stay tuned. (If you’ve written and posted something that you want me to read, use the hashtag #ourspirals)


More often than not,
I’ve slept my problems away.
My problems have been
Like a beast in the dungeon,
Like a dragon in the caves
of the tall golden mountains
that echoes like my mind.
I’ve used sleep as a defense mechanism,
and defeated such dragons,
over and over in my dreams.
My problems have been
Like a task for me,
Like a big step that I have to take,
in order to survive,
amidst the world of flames and cuts.
I’ve used sleep to procrastinate,
and thought everything through.
Used the veil of a perfectionist,
to cover my hopes in a belief of awakening.
My problems have been
Like a clock that is ticking away.
I’ve used sleep as my fingers,
and removed the cell.

Today,
I’ve decided to wake up.


If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.

Related post 1 : Palettes of life.
Related post 2 : It’s okay.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞