A Miscalculated Affair

Oct, 01, 2016                                                                                                                                                                     3 A.M

Dear Someone,                                                                                                    

Sitting in this empty space with a book in one hand and a tune on the lips, I’m left with nothing more but one question. Would this picture have remained the same had you been what I hoped you to be?. The song plays on and drops me into a mood that questions your existence and brings me disruptions.

A part of me, that is the queen of individuality, tells me that I’m happy the way I am. That I should be glad for things didn’t work out, that I’m better off with that platter not served to me.

But then, this other part of me who is the queen of lonely times, tells me that maybe we could have worked it out. That maybe, if you would have given this a chance, things could have been a la la la joyride for us. That maybe, you and I both would have changed along the way and could have become each other’s destiny. That maybe, if I were a bit different and you were a little more persistent, we could have shared a different time line. That maybe, I would have made a card for you and not helped someone else on their special day.

I’d always hoped that our affair would be a fun script but it didn’t matter to you, did it?. In my story, you were the one great hero who would claim my side, be my strength, tumble into a pillar of tears, and burst bubbles inside me, all at the same time. You came to me when you need help. You showed that you cared to get things done. Maybe you did care, but then, it doesn’t matter now, does it? All of these flowery thoughts in my head and never turned into reality.  It was always ‘Reel’ and never ‘Real’.

I will always be ‘me’ – a typical one, who will wait up the whole old day just to get a look at you. To smile and feel your presence. To hate your guts for hurting me and still fall for you each time you come. Like they say, there’s a way different power in this affection (I wouldn’t call it love because that I am yet to decipher). So, this affection, it is powerful. No one can take this away from me. Not even you. It is mine to call on or off. It is mine to lock and bury. For our story is different.  And you will always be that one unhappy ending in a chapter of my biography.

Yours Affectionately,
A Condemned Lover

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