She wanted to forget him but she couldn’t. Even though she had severed every tie between them. She remembered his words and she remembered his actions. The latter had hurt her and the former had given her a strange sense of elation. They had made her feel special-he had made her feel special.

“You would be one fine woman when you become one. Your unique intellect coupled with the vulnerability you assign to the world around you. You would be fascinating to say the least…And I don’t know why I said the last three lines. Don’t ask me why.”

She wanted to. Badly. Maybe she had asked him. She couldn’t remember.

“Somehow I think even though you don’t care for most of the things, deep down inside, you question yourself too much. You’re not concerned with the result but you do enjoy losing yourself in the plot, rebuilding it, till you feel…

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Magr Dil Hai K Iski Khaana-e-Weerani Nahi Jati

If there were better words or bold words or bad words or lonely words or words that would describe anguish better than anguish, I’d use them all because at this point I have no idea what words to use; how to phrase all that is clogging my throat and suffocating me every second of my being.

How do you tell the world that you’re lost and alone and incomplete? Like the best part of your half that made your survival possible is not there anymore and you look around yourself and try to gulp in heaps of mouthfuls of air only to find out that wasn’t air – it was the reality that you’d have to live alone and be alone and in fact stay lonely.

There’s nothing more that can hurt you than being misunderstood. You do things to get things, wrong things to get the right things. But when you realize, does it always have to be too late?  It’s always like the boy who cried wolf. And when you cry the wolf after the wolf comes, no one believes you. No one believes you might have actually unintentionally, in the fear of things, screwed up. You were always the bad guy, you will always be the bad guy. As long he has me to put the blame on for every damn screw up that occurred between us, it’s all okay. The lies he told me are all okay as long as I forgave them, as long as I “understood”. Of course I am accountable for everything.

And if there was a God above, He would have listened to me, don’t you think? Listened to  years of begging, pleading, wanting, requesting and praying.  But maybe He will, in His own way. Or maybe He won’t.