Skip to main content

Love

His Princess

He didn't see me going to the donut store. If he did, he would remind me that I'm fat. He would remind me 10 times a day that I need to work out and lose 15 kilos. He would tell me that I'm not fit, and that I'm not good enough. I bite into the donut, original glazed. It hits the right spot. I am happy. 

He didn't see me going to the party in heels. If he did, he would remind me that I don't have the required practice and I am wobbly on my feet. He would smile at me weird and say not to feel hurt, he's just playing. But he didn't see me, go to the party in heels. I dance and nearly fall, but it's so good to feel it without someone pointing it out.

He didn't see me putting on my green lipstick. If he did, he would remind me that it's just not what's done in society. But he didn't see me, and I had the best night. I was free to be myself. 

He didn't see me crying, if he did he would have said that I'm too emotional, Too wound up, too uptight. But I cried cause he didn't know that what he's said and done has damaged me and broken me. 

I look up from my book and smile at him. The love of my life- the bane of my existence. 


Her Demon

She shouldn't have done that. The weight gain is real, donuts are the worst, she didn't know I saw her. She would later regret this temporary fix. I would have to remind her to shed some weight. But I know that will lead to a fight. She’ll work on it, atleast for me.

She didn't see me as I met my ex at a party. That would lead to a row. She just doesn't get it. She's too uptight and possessive. I don’t want to hurt her, so I lie. It’s so good to have fun without someone putting pressure on me. 

She didn't know that I saw her with her green lipstick, stepping out with her friends. I was so embarrassed for her. She is free to be herself, but would she make the same decisions if she really knew how it made her look.  I try to help her. But she just doesn't get it.

I saw her crying, wiping her tears way with the back of her hand. Her drama, her emotions.  She doesn’t understand that crying doesn’t fix anything. It makes it worse. It makes her look weak.

I smile at her as she looks at me over her book. There she is the light of my life- the reason for my existence.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Blink

  The criminal I look at you. I remember I gave you the chance to break me. I didn’t leave, when I knew I should have. I stopped you when you were about to leave. I let myself be bruised. I blink to see if there are any tears in my eyes. I remember the last time. I had thrown it at you, that book that I had painstakingly made as an anniversary gift. I had thrown it at you, hoping, hoping that you’d see it and you’d know what we were losing. I had begged for forgiveness from you, craving for something I knew we had no way of getting back. I had blinked just hoping the pain would go away. I remember when you had told me that you wanted to be with me forever, when you had promised forever. That blue checkered shirt, with its sleeves folded up, the smell of my favourite deo, the half eaten plate of chicken wings, and that playful yet perfect smile. I had blinked, just to make sure that I captured the moment.  I remember when we had first met, how you’d sat across from me, just wai...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Thought of Words

The writer   It was the words that came to me in free flow. Every sentence well articulated, well written. The words forming thoughts that I have never really understood. I wrote of love, hatred, anger, hunger, pain, regret; without truly knowing what it meant. People laughed, cried, smiled, smirked; on reading what I wrote. But my mother, she never understood. "Think," she'd say, "use your brain." I would be pushed a math paper toward me and would be asked to solve it. That was my life growing up. But words, words were my friends. They brought me pleasure.   I had woken up to the smell of paper burning. There in my room my waste paper basket had been on fire. My mother, standing near it, in her night gown, tears flowing down her face, had been feeding the flames with papers from my desk: my stories, my poetry. The flames had licked them all, tasting my precious words before deciding to swallow them whole. I had watched them burn, and I had let out an inaudibl...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Jump

Happiness Maybe, just maybe, it is time to give up. I mean, sure, the girl next door lost both her parents to COVID 19. Sure, my family is alive and well and I’m so grateful for it. Sure, I have a lot of love in my life. Sure, I have a great job that gives me time and money. But maybe, it is time that it gets over. When I’m at my peak, when life is at a high and there’s no fall that I can see ahead.  Maybe, just maybe, they won’t miss me as much. Maybe they would understand that it wasn’t sadness at all. I was happy, I am happy and isn’t that what stories always told us? To have a happy ending? Why wait for another moment of sadness? Why wait for another heart break? Why wait for an interruption to my perfect life, when I can be happy and just give it all up. Maybe, just maybe, this jump might not be my last. Maybe, I am so happy that I might defy all odds and fly! This height isn’t that scary. And I’m happy, I’m so happy. I take the jump with my eyes closed and a smile on my face....
Post a Comment
Read more