A winter evening:
Whenever he crosses her mind, she can hear that voice indicating her of a similar encounter. Is it true? Or is she just overthinking of such a possibility? To be honest, it proved right most of the time. There has to be a connection. Why would those eyes look at hers right in front even though there is no such thing in existence? She doesn't have such encounters every day but it definitely happens every now and then. She really doesn't know how to react or who to even ask or confirm. But there has to be something. After all, there is no such thing as accident. There is a calculated conspiracy committed by this universe to make everyone believe what it feels like to live what they call life. It is magic indeed. And so are their souls. People have no clue at times how these souls react to what and when. But just because there is no practical explanation or logical reasoning, it does not mean these things are not true.
A night of confession:
Some fragrances never leave you. The smell. The flavor. The emotion. The vibes. The pauses. The silence. Everything remains so intact. Just like it was years ago. She has always failed to decode it. How does it even hold a truth so intact for years without damaging even an iota of the memory? Maybe there was truth back then. Maybe there still is truth of it. Maybe truth never fades. Maybe truth is forever. She just can't escape from that truth. That memory. It doesn't always resurface. But it does when it does and how. There are times when it doesn't leave her side, not even for the tiniest moment. Quicksand it is, but it lives that moment for sure. And she drowns in that pure indulgence. Never does she wish to come out of that shell. It's not real and she knows that. Even that truth brightens her mind up like a twinkling sky. Yes, it feels that great. She can't express that feeling in words. She could never do that. It's such a heavy feeling. She was not given any answer nor even single words for that. Maybe it never existed. Maybe not that way. Maybe it was just an ordinary memory, ordinary enough to be forgotten in seconds without any second thoughts. But it didn't work the same way for her. She could never forget that for some reasons unknown to even her. Maybe it's not that ordinary for her. She has tried umpteen times to chase that memory away, flush it down but with no success. When it roars, it just deafens every other noise and scream. It's as delicate as powerful.
She has no control of the emotion nor can she think of any solution to shut it off. It's a helpless wave of memory, fragrance, pause, silence, vibes and so much. Maybe it's a temporary rush of the moment. But in that temporariness does she live a thousand lifetimes and a hundred ways of helplessness. She can do nothing but restlessly go through the rush and wait patiently to get it over. That's all she can do for now. That's what she has done. Always. Alone. Silently. Restlessly. Helplessly. She has no other words to explain.
A new morning:
After years of speculation, it took her just a moment to confirm the absent vibes from the other side. "He is not the one" was such a relief and a happy realization. After all, there was a reason for the faded vibes. The process of taking someone out of the system may take long - months or even years - but it starts with a single moment of realizing that naked truth. So she took her pen again and noted down, "No, you're not entitled for anything in my life. And I'm not sorry for that."
Whenever he crosses her mind, she can hear that voice indicating her of a similar encounter. Is it true? Or is she just overthinking of such a possibility? To be honest, it proved right most of the time. There has to be a connection. Why would those eyes look at hers right in front even though there is no such thing in existence? She doesn't have such encounters every day but it definitely happens every now and then. She really doesn't know how to react or who to even ask or confirm. But there has to be something. After all, there is no such thing as accident. There is a calculated conspiracy committed by this universe to make everyone believe what it feels like to live what they call life. It is magic indeed. And so are their souls. People have no clue at times how these souls react to what and when. But just because there is no practical explanation or logical reasoning, it does not mean these things are not true.
A night of confession:
Some fragrances never leave you. The smell. The flavor. The emotion. The vibes. The pauses. The silence. Everything remains so intact. Just like it was years ago. She has always failed to decode it. How does it even hold a truth so intact for years without damaging even an iota of the memory? Maybe there was truth back then. Maybe there still is truth of it. Maybe truth never fades. Maybe truth is forever. She just can't escape from that truth. That memory. It doesn't always resurface. But it does when it does and how. There are times when it doesn't leave her side, not even for the tiniest moment. Quicksand it is, but it lives that moment for sure. And she drowns in that pure indulgence. Never does she wish to come out of that shell. It's not real and she knows that. Even that truth brightens her mind up like a twinkling sky. Yes, it feels that great. She can't express that feeling in words. She could never do that. It's such a heavy feeling. She was not given any answer nor even single words for that. Maybe it never existed. Maybe not that way. Maybe it was just an ordinary memory, ordinary enough to be forgotten in seconds without any second thoughts. But it didn't work the same way for her. She could never forget that for some reasons unknown to even her. Maybe it's not that ordinary for her. She has tried umpteen times to chase that memory away, flush it down but with no success. When it roars, it just deafens every other noise and scream. It's as delicate as powerful.
She has no control of the emotion nor can she think of any solution to shut it off. It's a helpless wave of memory, fragrance, pause, silence, vibes and so much. Maybe it's a temporary rush of the moment. But in that temporariness does she live a thousand lifetimes and a hundred ways of helplessness. She can do nothing but restlessly go through the rush and wait patiently to get it over. That's all she can do for now. That's what she has done. Always. Alone. Silently. Restlessly. Helplessly. She has no other words to explain.
A new morning:
After years of speculation, it took her just a moment to confirm the absent vibes from the other side. "He is not the one" was such a relief and a happy realization. After all, there was a reason for the faded vibes. The process of taking someone out of the system may take long - months or even years - but it starts with a single moment of realizing that naked truth. So she took her pen again and noted down, "No, you're not entitled for anything in my life. And I'm not sorry for that."
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