I am back again, with yet another clumsily stitched story of mine. Since morning, I had been roaming around in the parks without companions. I just want to be left alone. I want to be left alone perhaps because I want to put the pieces together. I want to walk through the streets amidst sheer loneliness and silence because I want to hear the sound of my beating heart and that of my hollow footsteps.

Somewhere at the backend of my mind, I’ve been constantly getting a feeling that a part of me is missing. Well, anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of himself. For that very reason, anyone who’s in love gets sad when he thinks of the person he is in love with. It is quite similar to stepping back in a room you have fond memories of, the one you have not seen in a long time. The feeling of love happens to be the best of feelings.

But surprisingly, love tends to turn into an extremely cruel exercise at times. It is the feeling of betrayal which makes it a cruel exercise. I consider love to be a mistake, an enigma and an accident.

Love someone deeply and your heart is bound to get annihilated. Well, I am not making false claims; I am just vomiting out the truth. A truth which is extremely bitter and the reason why I am saying this is because: The person I loved turned out to be my assassin. She butchered my heart and convinced me to die promising me that there is a better life after death. The cruel thing about the entire incident was that it was a mistake and what intensified my grief further was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting her.

I claimed to have loved her with all my heart and soul and yet she didn’t pay heed. What frustrated me the most in the entire situation was the fact that I was not feeling humiliated, or annoyed or even fooled. Betrayal was what I felt, my heart broken not just by a person I was in love with, but also by, as I once believed, a true friend of mine. And then, although without reason I released the disappointment all at once. By that way, the bitterness in my heart didn’t get time to take root.

Furthermore, I released the pain and the hatred in my heart knowing that it would kill me. I took a deep breath and realized that I would rather die because I would end up betraying her in some or the other manner in order to settle the scores. Moving further, confessions can’t be termed as betrayal. What you say or do doesn’t matter, only feelings matter. If they could stop me from loving her, that would have been the biggest betrayal in the entire human history.

Frankly speaking, I used to advertise my loyalty but I don’t think there’s a single person I loved whom I didn’t eventually betray. So in that way, it won’t be wrong to say that I got what I gave. After looking at the situation through a critical and a largely pragmatic perspective, I realized that whatever happened is now done and dusted and that I must move on. Now, I am not at all disappointed with the outcome of my relationship which ended on a largely sour and tragic note. I happen to be a strong believer of the fact that sometimes, the best and the worst moments of your life can coincide. Sometimes, things don’t seem to go the way you want them to go.

The biggest irony about love is” It is the sheer talent of a soul to derive joy in pain, thinking of moments you long for, and knowing you’ll never have them again. The memories of our past haunt us, and yet we still can’t decide if the pain they caused outweighs the tender moments”. I believe everyone in this world betrays the person he loves. Some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering smile. Cowards do it with silence and the brave do it with a sword but she betrayed and wounded me like a lioness that jumps over her prey. At the end of it all, I am happy to be alone because I think even if she would have stayed with me; she would have certainly done it out of obligation or maybe sympathy.

Maybe I felt safe whenever she happened to be with me. She was a kind of security blanket within which I wished and wanted to confide. But now, I just don’t want to be there, perhaps because the whole idea of being loved and being vulnerable is intertwined. I just want to be someone’s everything. I want to be a source of fire and passion. I want love that is returned equally. I want to be someone’s heart, even if that means breaking my own…….

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