A series of fictional diary entries of people I may or may not have come across. The truth is conditional and so the option to believe lies with the reader.
The responsible one
Stolen kisses on the front porch. Mischievous pranks on people we didn’t know. Recklessness- the one word that described what we constituted. I saw him today, waiting for me like on one of those old days when I chose to be late knowing how he disrespected time unlike I did. But today, he was right on time, something that could have impressed me if it were old times. I told him how it was, my life in the right place, the right people surrounding me always. He listened, for a change, and remembered to ask questions! I knew right then how well I had trained him to be this guy. An hour later, he was back to his old self, trying to pull my leg while I failed hard at maintaining a straight face. My laughter was controlled, I feared letting go would only take me back to where I had begun. When it was time for us to take different routes, I tried to remember all the reasons I had had for breaking us up. I struggled to find something valid enough, something that stood the test of times and proved that I was right. I looked into his eyes when he said goodbye and with every step he took away from me, the list that the old responsible me had created to destroy the only special thing I had ever felt, unveiled before my eyes. But every single one of them only seemed to spell one thing- wrong.
Dedicated to the ones who are afraid of losing control by falling in love. You may have made some choices that are probably the worst and are irreversible just because life is supposed to be orderly to you. Unpredictability is often short-lived no matter how exhilarating it may be. Go on until you are ready to accept chaos as one of your own.
The broken one
“You can’t be my first anything because all my firsts are taken.”
“I could be the first guy to not leave you with a broken heart or the first to not leave you at all, for that matter.”
How many times have I heard them promise to keep their promises? Many even offered to stitch back all the pieces and make my heart good as new. But how is it that now is the time I recognise the same tone that I use when I gather the courage to tell myself that I was indeed not being casual about all the others, that each one of them took a part of me with them and left me more broken than I initially was, when I hear him say he loves me? I have listened before, never had I stopped. Even when I knew an ending was the only place some were heading, I never gave up hope and wished something would change and someone would love me for who I was, finding me beyond all my impressive covers. And when he came along around the time I stopped pretending, yet not going back to my old naive self, I had accepted my defeat along with the fact that a happy ending was not in my destiny. Enough damage had been done by the others and that was when I took the vow of never offering my heart to another. So, now, when he asks for it, what could I possibly do but give in and pray for it to be not returned bruised and bleeding again!
Dedicated to the strong ones. The people who are not afraid to fall in love even after being treated unlovingly by many, do share the secret of your undying spirit with me someday?