They say people who keep diaries with them are the loneliest. At that silent moment in the cold winter’s night, writing her heart on empty pages; she felt the most isolated being to ever exist.
To all the ifs and buts, and crumbled woes –
There are days when I feel so strongly attached to him, where I feel an unusual sense of closeness to him, knitted with a crisp of fallen autumn’s leaves, a truer than ever love in my heart for a person who with all his flaws looks so perfect to me. Then there are days, where I absolutely hate him for breaking my fragile heart and getting my delicate soul torn, for leaving me wrecked, where I loath his existence for letting me go through the worst, for being responsible to most of the bad time in my life. But then again, there come some days where I see him as a consistent support in life. A constant who will forever be there without any absence. Who’ll always choose to gather my scattered pieces by his mere shadow at my side. And then again, there come such days too, where he just seems to me the very perfect gentleman to ever appear. Where sometimes, I hate his foolish self, his constant nagging, his interests, his random talks. But still, to compensate for it, such days embrace me too, where he just wins me over and over over again. I live in moments where he turns into a heavy breath for me but the next moment, his gentle call makes me forget the harsh and coarse. Where his steady step turns into a spring breeze, opening the close buds of my heart but his cold compassion pierces my gut, where his dry words pour the pain into my soul but his random notice turns it all, upside down. Maybe, that’s how love was meant to be, to make you go through the ups and downs in a single go or to make you feel the cold and warm in a single skin at a constant moment. Not assure of what he is, but he is the closest to soul, the most comforting to the ache and the perfect intimacy. If he’s not meant for my puzzle, God! write his fate in my jigsaw. If he’s not the perfect one for me, God! make him the best to my story. And if I’m supposed to be left a wreck, give me the supreme of the finest to heal all my wounds and fill all my voids.
In the name of my desirable darkness and lumped throat,
I’d ink my heart for if it was ever deemed to be read the truth.
– Marked eternity.