Interlude-2.

Do you have anything new to tell me? About the weather, the sandwich you made this morning or the flowers in your courtyard? I know we've told each other a lot of things - some interesting, some not, some vile, some not, some out of love, and some not. See the thing is, I've heard a lot of things from you and all of them are leading a life of glorified death now. They don't deserve that, you know? The glory, I mean. So, tell me, do you have anything new? Have your words reformed? If no, then please keep them to yourself. I'm not interested. I guess I'll never be interested again.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BS0G1KK8H6M

Your Splendour And Uncertainties!

I've written you notes and letters,

On things that mattered, and things that did not.

I've scribbled on the pages of my journal,

With stories about you and your idiosyncrasies.

I was surprised to see how I fell in love with you.

Because I fell in love with you while running from silence to chaos,

Because I fell in love with you between your quirks and my mood swings,

Because I fell in love with you even when you were miles away from me.

But it did not matter at all.

Because I fell in love with your smile in the darkness,

Because I fell in love with you by looking at the contours of your face,

Because I fell in love with you between stealing glances at you and my phone,

But none of it really mattered.

Because I fell in love with you even when words ceased to matter,

And even when you were sipping your coffee or singing to yourself,

I fell in love with you even when you were doing just nothing.

I thought I knew it all. I thought nothing mattered at all.

Oblivious to the effect you had on me, I let you go.

But when you filled me with an intoxication and left scars at places I never knew existed,

I completely knew I was willing to drown myself in all your splendour and uncertainties.

Journal Entry 537.

“When you're on your own, you look for signs. Sometimes you make them up, sometimes they're actually there, but most of the time you can't tell the difference from the two.” 

― Cecelia Ahern

January 4, 2015

I sat up whole night musing over time and how days are simply passing by. I am worried. I do not want to be the one standing alone looking at time pass.

I went over the details of my day, grimacing over the ones that were highly unpleasant, and smiling at the ones I've spent thinking about us.

I've had a terrible day, you know?

I did not just miss my deadlines, I missed my morning bus too. What if this turns into a compulsive habit? Also, did I tell you how incorrigible my new editor is? I blame you for this. If not for you, I would have just remained as a closet writer.

I have lost the track of the world around me.

And you, your thoughts never seem to go away from me.

The tears too have dried out but I haven't lose the count of the days ever since you left.

537 days. I am still counting.

Of course, there is no looking back. You told me that. But have I ever paid heed to your advice? I should have, you know? When you were still around!

Our pet has grown older, and ferocious. I can tell you, he misses you. He looks for you in every stranger. Your mother longs to treat you with the chocolate cake you loved as a child. Your father hopes you would magically appear at our doorstep every morning. No one can fill your void at his chess table.

And I? I wish I could tell you I am brave enough to wait forever but I miss my morning sunshine, waking up to your lazy smile and sleepy voice asking for a cup of coffee, and your warm breath at the nape of my neck.

I wish you were still here.

To experience more of my words and its enigma, flowers and their enticing fragrance, dandelion seeds and their sly quirks, sky and its endless hope. I want you to just remember that I have started loving the beauty of the world only after I fell in love with you.

Even the sapling we first planted together has grown into a giant tree bearing sweet smelling fruit.

I wish you stayed. I wish you weren't gone already.