The night had fallen. She gazed out the window and stared at the moon, the faint glow lighting up her face. It was not a pretty sight. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, oblivious to the tears running down her cheeks. It was a night, just like any other night. The darkness, a reflection of her own agony. She was too young, too weak to be alone. But that day, just like every other day, she was. In the confines of her own four walls, cries so loud, yet no sound was heard. She sat there, thinking about what life ever gave her that it didn’t take away. She was a young butterfly, a bird who had just found her dreams. She was a lighthearted soul with stars in her eyes.
Dreams. She had dreams. Dreams she weaved out of every minute of her every day. Dreams that didn’t let her sleep at night. Dreams, that everyone she knew ridiculed her for. Dreams, that her loved ones refused to let her chase. But she was a young bird, and like every young bird she flew. She stumbled, then rose. And then she fell. In love.
This night, like every other night, she glanced at her phone. She ached to hear his voice again. She had an insatiable desire to hear him call her name. Her whimpers, muffled by the pillow she held so tight. Muffled by the pillow she liked to believe was him. But no pillow, no picture, no memory could change the fact that he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there for her to hold, he wasn’t there to play with the strands of hair that would often cover her face. He wasn’t around to let her bury her head in his chest and forget about everything. But not the world, no. For he was her world.
And then came the earthquake. The man she called her own, whose eyes she saw the whole universe in, wasn’t even hers to begin with. A man whose name was joined to a woman’s long before she knew him. A man for whom she was simply one of many. The man who took away her reason to live and who took away the life growing inside her too.
She was broken. Shattered. Damaged beyond repair. He didn't break her heart, he destroyed her soul. Everybody thought she was crazy. And crazy she was. Crazy enough to still love him. Pathetic enough to yearn for his touch every single day. Nobody cared about her life. Nobody would care about her death. Even the mighty fall, and the cowards give in. She stared at the moon, slowly drifting away into the abyss of the heaven above. Or Hell. Both were better than her life anyway. The pills made her happy. Or maybe she couldn't feel the pain anymore. She didn't care. This was her moment to fly. Her moment to grasp at whatever was left to hold on to. Yet she drifted aimlessly, taking one last look at the moon.
They all thought she was crazy. Now they had proof. No note was found, just an empty trail of pain and nothingness. Of abandonment and apathy. She was gone, floating somewhere in the stars, relieved of the tears and misery. And long after she had faded away did they realize, all she wanted was to be someone’s favourite. All she wanted, was love.
#Random-Thought-Of-Life.
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