Italics denotes the instances when the author is intervening.
“And beyond the lights, they managed to find what they thought was right. It didn’t matter what was. The End”.. she slammed the book; not in anger but in dismay and murmured ” I want this”.
Like all fictions stories; this one has something uncommon too. I know and therefore you know; that she is not going to find her love. Not here. Not on this planet. And with this and a blanch attempt to at least try and get her whisker of happiness she thinks she deserves, I have to cross the boundaries of time and tear the fabric of reality. Why? Because I can.
She woke up and found herself within something unfamiliar yet soothing. something suffocating and yet liberating. something that she had read in her school books. As she tried to recall she realised this uncanny truth – that however much people say, memories hurt and it has nothing to do with love. how foolish of people: they associate every pain and suffering as an outcome of love. yes, there it was. “You might feel concussions and nauseating- that is your body trying to cope up with the atmosphere” – 1.0 Life outside Earth.
At this point of time, you might feel the urge to count it as a fairytale and skips a few lines. Be my guest, but you might lose the gushy part.
There it was. Her dream. Well, not dream. Something that will bring her close to it. What was her dream? Well, of course, wait, not love. why would you think love? It was plentitude. It was completeness. Her life had been always like that. Whatever made her happy was the reason for pain. She was a breathing paradox. But aren’t we all?
Now I am telling you with utmost sincerity that at this place; this planet she will find that. What she looks for. But it won’t be easy. Never is. How else would it be worth all of this?
As she sat there on the grey sand; She felt light. Life is funny. We try to find meaning in every little thing. This was the gravity. But of course she thought it was a sign. She laid there for hours, not that she was lazy but she was tired from all the hope. And as she fell asleep looking at the distant planet- painted in green and blue; as she looked at the starry night she slept with the thought that indeed the night was more beautiful than what Van Gogh made it and that however far our imagination might go it will always fall short to the horizons.
Little did she know that her encounter with him would be so, so ordinary. It would not be right out from a fairy tale nor like a damsel in distress. We have this picture made in mind – “How it is supposed to be”. We twist and turn and make every vicious plan to align ourself with that idea. And the truth is; THAT is why truth hurts so much. She opened her eyes to find a blurry figure staring back at her.
You know how they say love at first sight? Personally, I think it is bullshit but I am supposed to be romantic? so yeah. It was one of those moments. She could see her future. Perfectly clear. Like seeing through an hourglass and clearly see how beautifully
their her life is going to unfold.
If only what she thought; what she dreamt of; what she saw through all the suffering; what kept her afloat; what kept her sane; what kept her alive, was true.
Truth be told? He Left.
The truth is; as much as she doesn’t believe in destiny, Well she believes but I don’t, it is true. every chapter; every lives, entangled with what they call “fate” has a destiny. And oh god, destiny is a sad little soul.
It just wasn’t to be.
And now what does she do?
She hopes. She dies everyday and yet stays alive. I know it is fucked up. But in my defense, it is my story. That is how she remains.
This story is never going to end. Nor will it die. It will just remain. As it is. Here. Forever.
To remind you that good thing and also unfortunate things never end. You just make them into something else. A feeling. A thought. A poorly constructed monologue. A drunk speech. Tears. and sometimes; the reason of death. But her end is not near. Neither is yours.
So search. Him. Her. Till you see them. And when you do,
Don’t. Let. Go.
Art Courtesy: berlin-artparasites