Purposeless and hanging by a thread. Like a fool she sits up in her bed, stressed to the fullest. Now unknown from being the coolest. Thoughts of regret haunting dearly. A change is inevitable clearly. After having for long hid her emotions she now strongly feels the need to blot them all out, the need to release, be set free and about. She simply can’t live a Iie anymore, let alone lie to herself. A lie has hurt, pain, and a short life span on the shelf. Truth on the other hand has healing, love, and mortality. But matters of the heart have no morality. She misses him, no one can compete with his smile. It’s mostly what she’s been missing all this while. As far as corny metaphors go, like dry ground she thirsts for him. Similar to that woman in the scripture she was birthed for him. Life is hurtful now, meaningless, and full of thoughts; full of inadequacies, imperfections and faults. Gradually, disappearing like smoke; her body is burning like fire. For any other man she has no desire. Lonely, deserted like a wild bird in the Sahara. All her good nature was for nothing, it was all for mahala. The scripture says “whenever happiness is gone, sorrow is always there”. Yes, but they never said it would be this hard to bear. They never said it would constantly taunt her in its own twisted way. This is more than the price she was willing to pay. Scared and wandering, “will she ever get over this man?” or does she just have to go through with her plan? Thinking about this scares her just as much as it boosts her self-esteem. Her mind is clouded with all sorts of thoughts of him. See, her thoughts are like water in a well – actually a deep well, where she always drowns and fails to come out from that hell. But she must exist. He mustn’t resist.
(My Intellect’s Loud And Noisy-MILAN)