I want magic. I want madness. I want “you”.
Her friend told her to write bravely. She wrote, “He said he loved me and I believed him. I loved him, I hope he loved me too… even if it was for a moment, I hope he loved me too… the way I loved him.”
I will never know for sure if music eases or aggravates a lover’s pain. It is difficult, almost impossible, to define the function of music; but an existence without it seems preposterous… it satisfies a primal need to feel, to feel till you bleed out all those emotions… and then feel some more.
And then the realisation dawned on her… He indeed made her tremble with the sweet pain of pleasure, every time. He made her experience pleasures she never thought she was capable of feeling. But in the end, he was just a chapter in her book that was fast coming to a close… A chapter, a lesson, a memory and an experience. An experience she unabashedly reveled in, an experience that made her aware of a side she never knew existed, an experience that left her with a lot of anticipation for the coming chapters… and that is one thing she was grateful to him for… probably, the only thing.
Don’t preach to me about balance, the concept of it is lost on me. I am a person of extremes, I always make a choice… to love or to hate, to care or to be indifferent, to say it all or to shut up, to either be hyper or dull. Yes, it always is either-or. It always is about making a choice. No compromises. I live, and I live my way. Some call it the mad way, but I have seen people existing the sane way suffocate in boredom and would refrain from calling that “living”. Take my advice… be mad, stay mad.
What do you do when the person you hero-worshipped fails you miserably?
She was determined to rationally understand what went wrong. Assumption, she thought, was the convict in their relationship. When he said that is “our song”, she assumed our meant “him and her”. When she said she wanted pure
unadulterated love and he said that is what he wanted too, she assumed the definition of “pure unadulterated love” was the same for both of them. When he said “forever”, she assumed he meant forever. It was definitely not him, not
him… yes. Assumption indeed was the culprit, the only guilty party.
Being a lover of words, she tried hard to bleed out her pain on the paper; but all in vain. All the writing and words in the world could not help her even come close to the pain she was enduring. It was madness. A permanent devastation of a part of her. A part that made her more “her” than anything else in the world. She wondered if her eyes betrayed her every time she tried to hide behind the perfect fake smile. She did not know, but they did unintentionally reveal the agony that gripped her… not to the world but, only to the man who was the reason behind her misery. The absurdity of the situation was the fact that he too was suffering in the exact same way, but they were not allowed to rescue each other. All they could do was live through the pain and hope that it would fade in the future, if not disappear altogether.