She made a promise that she’d meet him. She meant to keep it… she really did. But she couldn’t, she just couldn’t. The thought of meeting him sent chills down her spine not because she found him repulsive… but because she was scared that he’d run away when he saw her. They had built an unimaginably strong friendship based on random talking… chatting on the internet, talking on the phone… and she didn’t want to lose this friendship, she didn’t want to lose him because of her complete incapacity to match up to the stunning looks of all the girls that flocked around him and chanted his name. She didn’t want to lose him because he had come to become one of the most integral parts of her life. She didn’t want to lose that very friendship which had pulled her out of depression when the hardest of times had fallen upon her.
She wept each night, regretting the loss that would befall her very soon… because she knew he would walk away one day, not because she was ugly, but because she had lied to him, assured him falsely that she would meet him when she knew she didn’t have the spine in her to do that… she cried because she was robbed of one of the few things that she could rely on… she was robbed of him… she cried because of her stupidity… she cried because she couldn’t face him and tell him the truth… she cried because she felt like a bitch.
Her head was nuzzled deep into the pillow which was wet with the copious tears that had escaped her hazel eyes that night. Her lips were slightly parted and her head was filled with confusing images… this wasn’t a novelty, no, quite the opposite instead. She had reconciled herself to crying herself to sleep every night… and that night was no different.
The wind lashed violently through the windows and the moon shone in a patchwork design through the dancing leaves onto her face. She was tangled in her long tresses and her body was hunched up into a tiny ball. His face was a predominant part of every dream and she could only think of him… she sighed wistfully and slowly, his name escaped from those very lips, “Kabir”.
She woke up the next morning, her eyes swollen and puffy and her heart heavy with remorse… as usual. She slowly turned her head to stare at the frustratingly loud and piercing beeps of her alarm clock. She sat up straight in bed and leaned her head mournfully against the head rest of the bed and slowly, invariably and uncontrollably, his face seeped into her memories, and even though she knew she should be feeling guilt, just the though of him made a smile play on her lips.
She climbed off the bed, his face still freshly sewn into the recesses of her mind. She dragged through her morning routine of bathing and getting ready to catch the school bus, but even for a moment, she didn’t manage to escape from the image of his face which continued to haunt her… asleep or awake. She sat in the corner, like a social reject (which she wasn’t… everyone talked to her which much enthusiasm but she simply nodded her head in a simple yes or no). She thought of him all day. Her friends reminded her time and again that her life didn’t revolve around Kabir but she never relented. They weren’t the ones who pulled her out of her state of depression… they weren’t the ones who had encouraged her to go on when she had become weak… and most of all, they weren’t the ones who would be losing a part of their lives.
He felt hurt too… immensely hurt. But he was a guy and he quickly learned to desensitise himself from the hurt that she was causing him… because he believed that she was intentionally hurting him. That was because he couldn’t see through all her phoney excuses… more importantly, maybe he didn’t want to. He used to go to her society everyday and whenever he passed by her house he’d look in just to catch a glimpse of her… and he’d see her smiling and walk away… he thought she was happy without him and he tried to be happy without her… but he never realised that he was the reason for her smile, and maybe, he never would.
He talked to her online every single day… every time… every single time, she gave him an excuse and soon enough he lost all his faith in her… she lost her ability to talk endlessly to him… they were reduced simply to the formal “hi” and “bye”. She wept for her loss and she was tired of giving him excuses… she was tired of him having given up on her… she was tired of it all… she really wished he knew what really went through her mind when she talked to him… but she couldn’t… not because it was untrue… but because she was a coward and would always be.
She seemed the morbid and dark kind to many of her friends and acquaintances. They called her attention-seeking, they called her depressed… they always left her out because she seemed like a pessimist and they thought she’d perpetually dampen their happy moments. But she still loved them… she would continue to love them till the very end.
She thought of him always and she knew she would remain guilty and remorseful of what a bitch she was… she really wanted to tell him how she felt… and it was for this reason that she wrote this story.
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