In The Rush of a Vocabulary Adrenaline.

There are always times in one's life when he hits rock bottom or is on cloud 9. At these 2 extremes the rush of adrenaline is mind boggling, I'm no bio student so i wouldn't exactly know how much; but i do know that its enough for you to do crazy things. Like when you just got through an interview; you would promise every Tom, Dick & Harry that you would treat them, or when you had the worst day in you life you'd resort to eating junk ( now you know why your diet is not working; just keep ypurself happy.)


It was about 2 years ago that i realised this uttlerly crazy phenomenon; coz till then all i remember was putting on weight and wondering 'when the hell did i promise her/him a treat?' or 'how did he even know i got through?' (Like you someone pointed this out to me).

So it was one of the lowest points in my life where the love of my life had just dumped me; and the boyfriend who I was cheating on was right there for me as always. Surprised?? (OMG did you actually think that I would tell him that I was cheating on him and he would forgive me? No way did he know.)
So it was one of those guilty days where i was jus in mourning and was doing the cliched-

WHY GOD WHY??? WHY ME???

Anyways the point being, as I had decided to keep away from food ( it took a lot of will power, and a few locks and keys to keep myself away from the fridge), I thought that I could do something else with the MAD RUSH of emotions; and what i actually did was write. I wrote and wrote (typed obviously) till i could write no more and I produced this piece, not story, not a page of the diary, not a lesson of advice, but a PIECE. Why i wrote it GOD ALONE KNOWS.

All I know is this piece was stuck in one of the corners of my hard disc; and now with DC++ back on I really need all the space possible to fill it up with some other souls's writings.

Love it or hate it, read the blog beyond this or not I don't care! All I know is as of now my hard disc is rid of 28.0 KB space which may not be much, but can be used to store better memories!!!

She sits alone.






In the darkest corner of the room. Thinking. Thinking deeply. Thinking about the last few days. About the person she loved. About the sacrifice and betrayal. On her own. Her head buried in her arms, but her heart buried in the grave of sadness and betrayal. She lives today in, hell.



Softly a gentle breeze touches her. She looks up. A shadow of darkness slowly moves. The black is that of a widow who has no more strength to mourn her dead half. It is as if the breeze knows her miseries. It doesn’t move away from her. It just lingers on, ever closer. Should she take the breeze as her companion?



She knows better that love is no bed of roses. The breeze would betray her like he had. Here today, there tomorrow. The breeze now touched her cheeks, those rosy cheeks at one time, had now become as pale as the ghost of death. That gentle touch had made her shiver. She felt cold; but her heart was frozen. If ever did the cruel tears of pain spout, they would have descended down from her cheeks to her neck and nestled comfortably in her bosoms. Bosoms; which represented care, love, trust and many other values of womanhood. But today, they were just a used piece of flesh that was still stuck to her dead body, to remind and torture her more, of the past.



Her tresses uncombed and tangled like her life, flew softly in synchrony with the winds of time. She gazed up, into the sky. No she did not ask for answers, she knew she would never get any. She looked up, to look at the stars. But lo! there were none tonight. She searched for the moon, but the moon was new.



She was draped in the colour of gaiety and the pleasant spring. The color of the sunflower. Oh why was it such state of irony? The colour was only faded into the plight of her regret, it was lost in the ruins of pain; it was diminished and shriveled in the misery of love.



Love is a sin!



There is no gain in it. It is only a punishment. It was the only mistaken creation of the devil. It was the plot of life. It was the one way people could reach heaven. Love was only giving and never expecting, so there would only be place for good deeds which would wash off the bad and be a gateway into St Peter’s world. She had done her share of love, but neither had she reached the gateway of heaven nor had she been burnt in the perils of hell.



He!



Made her sell her soul for peanuts. Prostitution was a better way of life, than betrayal. She questioned it no more. She let it go. She forgave him…



……When she said that it was the best sex she had ever had, it was her first, he corrected her asking her not to call it that. He said he had never made love to another girl. She felt pure, or so she said. He smiled and hugged her, looked deeply into her eyes and said that she was the most beautiful creature god had ever created.



She lay there on the bed, soaking in blood as pure as the virgin herself. He was on his fours over her looking into her eyes speaking words of encouragement, of love and many more. She was mesmerized. It was the first time she had taken such a big leap. She hardly knew him. But he had emerged in her life as her true love. A true charmer he was. Not once did she see that it was unreal. Not once did she question him. Not once did she look into his eyes with anything other than pure love. It was purity. An eternal bliss. He kissed her once more on her forehead and said he liked her.



The deed was left unspoken of in the times to come. There, in that moment, she had felt the world in her. His kiss was like ‘poison ivy’. That poisonous flower which had now filled her heart mind and soul with rotting memories of sad grief.



He made love to her eight times on three different occasions. He seized every opportunity to do it. Every moment of it was pure bliss. He came as an angel disguised to betray her. Even if she had known she would have committed that mistake. That mistake which was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened in her life.



One e-mail had changed it all!



She had made the biggest confrontation with him. She had asked him that, which which even the wisest of the beings would hesitate to ask. She was naïve in the act of love. She had asked the question that even destiny shunned.



Do you love me?



And ever since, she has dwelt in the ruins of the old grave near the church. She was only a creature of the night. She dwelt with other rotting corpses, with the occasional interference of the grave diggers and mourners.





She hadn’t killed herself. Only her soul was dead. For 3 years now it sat on the same scaffold dwelling only in thoughts and memories of that frightful day when he told her that he loved her best friend. And the rest was history. She did not know why she did it, what compelled her to commit that action remains another unanswered question. The act of joining the two lovers. She played the role of god. She became the link between him and her best friend.



And 3 years ago on this same date her best friend had married him. True love was met. True love!

She had sacrificed him for his own sake. Today he was happy with her best friend while she dwelt in remorse and grief.



It struck Mid night!



But time was no different to her, day or night it was the same. She lifted her head. Her ears never made a mistake. No, it was no grave digger. It was a mourner. But none of whom she had ever seen till this date. She was stunned. She knew him.



He walked from the rusted irons to the corner most epitaph. The only epitaph which was blank and only covered with the moss of distress. Why did he walk towards it? This was the first question which she had asked herself in 3 years. And for the first time she was about to get her answer.



He lay down a bunch of flowers. A bouquet of familiar wild flowers, the same ones he had plucked at the spur of the moment and given it to her as a birthday gift on her 17th b day. He knelt down and started brushing the moss off the epitaph. When he had finally cleaned enough, he took out from his pocket a permanent marker black in colour. Her very favorite colour and scribbled on the blank stone.



She walked with a fast gait, almost running towards him, and finally saw what he had written on her epitaph.



I have always loved you.



The moon shone and stars blinked. Tears!!! Those cruel tears finally hit her eyes. Moistening her cheeks that had grown back rosy in colour and in the bosoms a faint music of life began to play.



He was not him. He was the one whom she had betrayed in love.



The moon shone and the stars blinked. True love was met. True love!

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P.S: Any comments???