Revelation

I dont understand.

I am not able to forgive myself.
I just cant.

As days pass by, I find myself more and more squeezed by all that happened.
I am not able to believe…

Its shocking…that I was so mean…

I am desperate to talk to her.
I am desperate to apologise.
I am desperate to tell her all that I discovered these days.
I am desperate to speak all about how correct she was and how wrong I found myself to be.
I am desperate to share all my cheer and sorrows.
I wonder why I never felt like doing so earlier.
I wonder why I didn’t try to speak my heart to anyone.
I wonder why I stopped talking all about my joys, sorrows, dreams, desires, expectations, struggles, hurdles and everything that concerns me—to any one…Even to myself.
Had I done it, I dont think I would have witnessed this situation.

But what can I do now?
ITS ALL OVER.

SHE’S GONE, FOR EVER.

She was sweet.
She was so sweet.
She was sweet enough to try to correct me when I was wrong.
She was sweet enough to care for me though I paid a deaf ear to her.
She was sweet enough to tolerate my man, I know she has done it only and solely for my sake.

I am desperate.

Yes.
Aparna,
I am desperate.
I am desperate to talk to you.

To me, Aparna had always been special.

When she is pained, tears would flow from my eyes.
When she is in desperate need, my feet rush.
I considered every small detail about her as if it were mine.
Or perhaps a lot many times more care than I would probably show to myself.

My respect towards her is limitless and my belief in her boundless…

But I have never ever even gave myself the thought of sharing with her all my griefs and sorrows.
I never considered that I can talk to someone when I feel dull and depressed.
I never realised that talking to someone of my sorrows would provide solace to my heart and relief from the burden of emotional havoc.

My diary was my companion. My blog was my companion.
But this time, NONE!!

Not books.
Not diary.
Not even myself.

I HAD NO TIME FOR MYSELF!!!

And when you dont attempt to vent out your emotions, they get trapped inside. They build up, only to explode one day and ruin your existence.

I dont know if I am speaking sense.
I dont know if I can ever speak sense.
I dont know if I had ever spoken sense.

Sorry dear…
I couldnt realise your intention.
In fact, I didnt even think of it.
I only knew that talking to ‘U’ was not permitted.
I accepted it–er–tried to accept it as an unalterable fact.
I didnt judge my action. I didnt really bother about consequences. I just (en)acted as a rule, as a requirement, as an essentiality…

Sorry dear…I was not even aware that I was doing so.
I didnt even try to think what I was doing or what I ought to do.

You were sweet. You were sweet enough to talk to me, on the last day.
After all the nonsense…After all the ingratitude…After my mail and unforgettable shock it gave to you… You were still kind enough to respond.

But I was stupid.
Even then, I didnot think.
I did not dare to think.
Perhaps, I didnot care to think.

I succumbed to vague, meaningless things which shielded me from everything that was going on. They took me into the darkness of fears and frustations.

I hated everything.
I hated my own existence.

Sorry dear, I didnt make any attempt to get you right.
I didnt make any valid attempt to set myself right.
I kept deteriorating.

I drooped, then crawled, now stay as a motionless creature, no better than a corpse, flat on the ground!!

Should I pity myself???

Ha! Ha!

I wonder why I feel like doing so now?