As acids rise from my belly, teasing and fondling with my sacred chamber of life; it beats at the speed of a ferrari as salty liquid floods down my lashes. I leave the reservoir on its own and instead hug the small of my back, as my nails dig in, they leave flushing scars across my waist. My psych feels as if it is being used as a stove for stew while my skull is a Yamaha drum being against, by spiky metal sticks. The nuisance resonates deep down as red spots clot my vision.
I stop whining, and for the millionth time, trace the origin and cause of this misery. Aha. How ‘originally’ , excruciatingly painful this form of love is. As I think of her, that vibrant innocent yet evil smile, her ever-present magnetic field; a semi-blush-grin spreads across my face…and as the corners of my mouth reach my cheeks, I feel the dried stream of tears tighten, the feeling, the realization guiding me into another sensational fit.
The reminiscing begins. A kaleidoscope’d movie of all possible situations, scenarios and reasons why everything went wrong plays in my mind. My soul screams a horrendous cry for peace and my chest constricts as I realize only she can calm me. A ‘she’ that just might not want to be associated with me anymore. A ‘she’ so spectacular, its sight leaves my each and every entranced. Literally.
The pain starts. I feel a stinging pain in my heart, so sharp I feel like a knife just pierced through me. A pang of guilt….? Or desperation? I dont know. But it hurts so much, I feel my whole body go rigid for a complete minute. Helplessly desperate to talk to her, I frantically search for my cellphone, going through my text messages, whatsapp chats and instagram notifications. Piece of unlucky, damned coward I am. Ofcourse she contact- no. She wont contact me; and I know that way too well. I fool myself time and again, well I am being optimistic…she said I could use some time off pessimism.
Great. Back to phase one. Too many memories, too much time spent together, too painful to stay away, too much affection, too scared to accept the distance. I resume my cyclic torture; this time praying, that she somehow feels the way I do, so that our ever-present mutual consent makes her realize what a stuck up, sadistic, obsessive drug she is!