Of Black Coffee, Guitar and Our Love…. Part – 2

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.” A lot of atrocious thoughts were ballsing up her head since many days. These were not insecurities. It was just her genitive, unconditional love.

“He’s not perfect. I know that. Neither am I. I know that too. And together, we won’t be perfect ever. I am pretty sure about that too. But if he makes me laugh at lest once, causes me to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes. I’ll hold onto him and give him the most I can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, write long romantic narratives, he might not be thinking about me every moment, but he will give me a part of him that he knows could break me. I know, my heart says, don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.”
She closed her diary with this note, cherished a smile, and breathed in air of unfeigned bliss; incognizant of the chaos that was about to hit her life.


It didn’t do any good to them. Distances never do anything better to relations. She was feeling this huge, thick, cold slab of indifference between herself and him. She has been trying to talk to him, several calls, texts and all the efforts, but no use.
There was this long list of things on her mind. “Yes, they don’t teach us in school how to not love. They don’t teach us how to embrace heartaches. They don’t teach us how to ignore someone. They don’t teach us how to know what’s going on in someone else’s mind. They don’t teach us how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach us what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach us anything worth knowing.”

She was feeling a sharp, piercing pain inside her soul. He was her world, the reason behind her every smile, a question she’d love answering all her life. She was feeling this fear of losing him. She was sensing this thick air between herself and him. She was feeling, he doesn’t belong to her anymore. It was not a naive, fragile bond of yesterday. It was a relation she grew up with. From the long calls, to those silly laughters, from rushing together to catch bus on time, to being all sophisticated in front of teachers – they lived their every single breathe in it, in their love.

“Falling for someone can be a lot like playing roulette. You don’t know what will happen when you place that bet, but you can take a deep breath anyway and put all the chips out there. And when the ball spins around and around, you pray it lands on your number. Probability says you’ll likely lose, and in this game of love with Leo, odds were I would lose, too, but I had to try.”
For a fraction of second, this very thought made her tremble.

It was scary. Of course, losing a loved one is always horrific. You’d not like someone tearing apart your chest and ripping out your heart, crushing your rib cage, suffocating your spongy lungs, popping out your eyes and breaking your bones to get the marrow out of it. Oh, did you imagine the physical pain? That’s what love does to you, it destroys souls!



Dear diary,


Yours truly…


The indifference stayed there. It was not him being cold, but his fate’s ball rotated so wrong that it kept him closer to not break the ice. He knew that sooner or later, he’ll die. It was lethal, he could not be cured. But he loved her so much. When you love someone so much that it starts hurting you, and then you can not see a single sad feature on their face, right? He knew that the news of his illness would shatter her, tear her apart, kill her. And he’d not want it ever to happen.

“I will love you always. When this red hair is white, I will still love you. When the smooth softness of youth is replaced by the delicate softness of age, I will still want to touch your skin. When your face is full of the lines of every smile you have ever smiled, of every surprise I have seen flash through your eyes, when every tear you have ever cried has left its mark upon your face,I will treasure you all the more, because I was there to see it all. I will share your life with you, Meredith, and I will love you until the last breath leaves your body or mine.”

He thought with tears in eyes, while fighting for his life on the death bed in this cold room of hospital. He ended with a gentle smile, the moment, he thought of her name.

They say, hospitals see more prayers than temples. Can not God listen to my single prayer and make me live for her? For her fragile soul? For her innocent smiles? For her pure love? No? God can not even fulfill my single prayer. Is he going to put a history by doing the first heartbreak in these walls where hearts are mended.
He felt so helpless that he screamed out of sheer pain. That’s how atheists are born. When few hearts are broken, few prayers go unanswered, the calls in vain, hopes unfed, hearts broken.

“Helplessness is such a rotten feeling. There’s nothing you can do about it. Being helpless is like being paralyzed. It’s sickness. The cure calls for a monumental effort to stand up and start walking somewhere, anywhere. But that takes some doing.”
He murmured silently to himself. All he could do was to isolate himself from her and die silently. He was doing so. Though, feeling like getting stabbed, gutted, numbed and dumped – he was doing it. Just for her. To save her, from the greater grief.



Dear Diary,

I feel like ripping out my heart and screaming out my lungs. I’m losing the purpose of my living, my breathe, my every single deed. I am losing him. This damage is going to be permanent; there would always be scars. But even the angriest scars faded over time until it was difficult to see them written on the skin at all, and the only thing that remained was the memory of how painful it had been. I know, these empty sympathies and fake hopes won’t work. The distances, the air of irrelevancy and all these miles between us have now separated our hearts too. My ears are habitual to listen that voice, everyday! My soul is habitual to sense that touch, my heart used to touch that heart, my lips used to talk to him. But now, it’s been six months, I’ve not listened to the person who is the real reason behind my every smile. But it was unnecessary, there would be other nights. How could you say I would not love you? When all I did was to feel you around and sleep next to you. But I never expected you to write me poetry, or sing songs, or make promises of high dreams and higher hopes. All I ever wanted was you being with me – us together. For darling, I’ve always told you, ours is not a typical love story. Not of roses and butterflies. But of rough pavements’ walks and ordinary cotton candies. I’ve always started days with morning’s light coming through this window, gazing at the sky. But now I won’t do it anymore. For all I could see and get is the blue of my life…… But you’ll never love yourself as much as I do and never care for yourself as much as I do, for darling, I want to let you know; I am always there for you..Oh!


It has been a very long time since I’ve received a gift as extraordinary as you.


8 thoughts on “Of Black Coffee, Guitar and Our Love…. Part – 2

  1. This is heart breaking. SO BEAUTIFUL. SO, SO, SO BEAUTIFUL! I cried a long every word I read. You’re a magician. Goddess of words. I LOVE EVERY POST OF YOURS. I LOVE YOU!
    Can’t wait to read the next part. This is painfully beautiful. So romantically hurting.
    Cried out my eyes!

  2. WTF did I just read? IT IS SO SICKENINGLY beautiful. I cried so much. HOW DO YOU DO IT? You are NOT even a professional one but you are so flawlessly amazing and just perfect. I love you. Let it be your tweets or blog, the way your personality is reflected – you’re just amazing!
    You are so good with prose too. I feel a heartache. I am crying on this pleasant morning in this beautiful city of NewYork – after seeing your perfection.
    Please drop me a mailing id or sth, I want to be in contact with you!

  3. Reblogged this on Emotions Overflowing and commented:
    There are times in your life that you read something and it pierces through your soul and makes you cry like you’ve never cried in a long long time, despite wanting to. This is one of those heartbreaking pieces of writing that are painfully touching and flawlessly amazing. :’)

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