Only today I wish that Ross would miss the t-ball, letting go of the bat with his grimy butter fingers and hit me upside the head. That way I’ll probably be able to miss school or die. Because if Ross murders me with his baseball bat then at least I’ll be exempted from my exams.
//Dried and dryer and soon brittle//
I watched her, as she dried her hair. The whir of the hot blast hitting her damp hair, the single pointed focus on getting it right. As the wet reached near dryness, her mind had already switched to her dress, then make up, then shoes, and then her overall presentation - the impact. As if it were some pageant, where she was the judge.
Her name was Aishwarya, and she was methodical, spending exactly 17 minutes to get ready.
The attention which she paid to her appearance was mind numbing - crease free, color coded, chic.
But for all the fuss, she was most beautiful when she allowed herself to be. Like, when she would kiss me - soft, then hard and soft again. Or when she would wake up, her eyes fluttering, her mind breaths away from concrete thoughts. Or when she would let herself wipe at her pooling tears, thinking I wasn't looking. Or when she would smell second hand books with their damaged covers, scribbled first pages and stained insides. Or even when she would sit by the window, with glazed eyes and head on the glass - I knew I was the outsider, gazing at art, an art that the painter forgot to finish.
Still. Her beauty lay in these small moments. But she never cared for them. Or spoke of them. Not even in bed.
For one, no matter what I did, I could never come close to touching the sadness in her being. Like cancer - you know it exists but you can't see it. But it hurts just the same.
I could see Aishwarya wasting away in her self imposed pressure for perfection. I saw my woman fade, replaced by a workaholic. I felt us cracking, as she withered to the gloom within.
That one day she snapped and cried and cried and cried, while a storm blazed outside.
I said nothing. Just held her.
She said nothing. Just howled and gasped and whimpered and sobbed and shook and then sat, silent.
We broke up after that.
But, whenever I see lightening cleave the sky, and the rumble of thunder that ensued, I think of the unfinished Aishwarya, and how complete she was. .
Image : @dayzedandconfuzed
Inspired by the quote "Gradually, but deliberately…I have made myself into a machine. I have done it deliberately—in order to endure, in order not to feel. I have deliberately killed my senses—I have deliberately died […]" - T.S Eliot. That quote has always made me wanna write but I kept putting it off for some reason. It just has a strong feeling behind it to me.
The Love of a True Friend.
I never knew what a true friend was before I met you. When you saw me that day, broken and sitting alone you didn't run away like everyone else. Instead, you walked over to me. You sat next to me. Without saying anything, you held me. I felt comfort. I felt protected. You told me that even though you didn't know what was going on, everything would be okay. As the days passed, we became closer. We spent everyday together. Just laughing and enjoying life. I told you my past. I told you the real reason why I was alone that day. I told you why everyone abandoned me. I said that it was easier for them to leave instead of being there for me when I needed them the most. In many ways, you saved my life. You were there when I thought I had no one. You came into my life and lit it up. For that, I thank you.