Borrowed Time.

Crumbled pages lie silently at the corner of the room as the ink went dry, the thoughts astray. The mind was a fighting a war within itself. The heart, well it did it’s job, without a care in the world. The walls absorbed the silent screams. The prayers resonated in the enclosure, breathing the aroma of its depth and finally settling at a nice corner of the room. While the night danced in the glory of the dark, the silence prevailed in the epiphany of the mind and all around. ” Tick. Tock. Tick. “

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The echoes of pain glorified the dark corners of the ignited mind. What was wrong? What was happening? Questions piled up, like the torn off pages flickering in the silent monotony of the cold breeze which had the half laden thoughts of the days not yet come.

Words. An anagram playing in the multitude of emotions, thoughts and whatnot. A random apprehension of a sophisticated mind. Why are they so far away? Why can’t they come closer? What do they mean? Why don’t they make sense? Is this the right script? Does this reach your heart?
He stared at the mirror long. He tried to look into himself, through the very fragments that kept him together, intact, as broken as he might be inside. He wanted to see what was inside of him, how broken can a person be. He wanted to see what he was made of, whether the broken memories ever heal. He was searching for something within himself, something he felt missing. He was not sure what. He was not sure why. There were questions that haunted, haunted as the answers were just more questions.

Letter. They were letters that hold the story never to be seen, never to be adapted, never to be lived. A letter, which was a warning, an indication of what went wrong. A foreword to the people to tread carefully. He had carefully handcrafted it, wrote the best god damn letter he ever could. He spoke of the misery, he spoke of the lost self, he spoke of great many deals. He ended the letter with a farewell. It was his last letter signed off with a “I am sorry, Good Bye”.

Here he was again, 10 years later contemplating over the same letter, still broken, still finding his way, still trying to perfect his last letter. The time was a factor that stopped for him a decade ago. He was a lifelessly alive, stuck on the past notion, not moving an inch forward. He tried to end it, end it all, the agony, the pain, the disappointment, and in the end even his life. Time, for him was a reminiscent.

He was living on borrowed time.
The time which is not his.

______

.scream

The silence in the voice.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

I stared at the reflection on the mirror. The eyes were searching for something. Some sort of validation, I suppose, or perhaps some answers, but the more they searched, they never even got any close to what they were searching for. Maybe there were no answers, or perhaps, the answers were lost. But in all honesty the answers were always there, they were just ignored. And beside the discontentment of not having, ignoring the answers, the eyes had something else in them, a sense of disappointment.

I sat down to gather the thoughts, the ones which lay scattered, in a web of jumbled and hazy thoughts, which never seemed to make any sense. While the confusion settled in the abyss of a mind, there was this new uneasy feeling that began to surface. It has always been there and this seems to be resurfacing again which always lead to messier things and breaking the already broken. And the unsettling feeling of what is supposed to be done isn’t being done is just topping the already full glass of water.

As I sat there looking into the eyes, speechless and wondering how to answer the questions that lay in front of them, I didn’t have the answers, I never did. All I thought had was one answer or more like an alternative to all this overflowing glass of water. And that might have seemed irrational, but it was the only way that could put an end to all this. And however irrational that sounded, it was sort of comforting to know that there was something that could be done, even though that didn’t land on the moral side of the scale.

The Silence in the Voice.

Now, there are a few more eyes trying to leap into my eyes looking for something, anything. The answers that I have always been searching for. And all could see in those eyes was something I had feared never to see. I was as blank to the questions in front of me. How was I supposed to tell that one thing that kept me going was an irrational thought and that was something that could never be said. While I sat there wondering how this irrational thought could be, no, is definitely the answer to all the questions, not the ideal solution but it was the best god damn alternative to everything that seemed to be weighing me down. There came a point when I stopped looking for any better answers because this irrational alternative was the only thing that could answer the unanswered questions while posing a few too many new questions, but that was not something of a concern to me now. Because the aftermath of this irrational thought was an abyss that I could never return from to answer any questions if there were any, which, with a doubt will be there.

However, and in all uncertainty, having finally come down to this one solution, as irrational it might seem like, this abyss that I was seeking as the ultimate solution was the farther away than it seemed. And that it cold solve all the problems seemed like an illusion. Imagine now, while I look at the eyes in the reflection in front of me and realizing that the one answer that could solve all the questions was just another failure and all I could of is screaming at the clueless reflection still staring back at me, lost in a self created abyss.

______

.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

.unsaid

I am not okay;
never was.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

I have said it. A couple too many times. I have said it in metaphors, translating in words that I didn’t even understand and in between the lines, or perhaps all is lost in translation.. But at the core of the things, it is still there. And I have said it way too many times or that’s how I feel. I am still here trying to say, let me rephrase.. I am trying to express in words that apparently don’t reach the people. I am not being cautious, perhaps I am scared. Or perhaps, I don’t know how to do it, how to say it bluntly. I will beat around the bush but I will not say it as it should be said, out loud, crystal clear.

May be that is why I can’t ever feel content with it, content with writing it off and hoping that it will do it’s magic of not making a permanent house in my mind. But, I am at loss of words. Writing was always my solace, my way of letting the things go and hoping that the new day that follows will be less burdened and also refreshing. Imagine the day when we don’t worry about yesterday and looking forward to great day that is to follow. How beautiful the sunshine will be, how melodious those birds chirp, how clear the sky is and how great the morning glory feels like. And in all adversity, how happy we will be, from the inside.

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While I write this, I have hit the backspace a little too much. I might as well have published with the words that I backspaced. I don’t know why! I don’t know why I am so unsure about writing about what I really want to write. I wonder if I am bothered by something that I am having second thoughts on how to put it in writing. I am sure nothing is bothering me. And I think I don’t just want to write them down. I don’t want me to validate it by writing it down. I just don’t want to sign it off as exactly what it is. Because as hopeless and crass I might be, I will try to look for that tiny lost hope that it will all get better soon. That, things will change and I won’t be in this place where I currently am at. You might… let me rephrase, I am not but I think I am a little superstitious. I don’t like things getting jinxed, as in like if I tell something bad, it will definitely happen, and if I say something good, it will never happen. I have this superpower that I control the world, my world. I just have to think of it, the good or the bad and it will happen, just the one I really don’t want to.

I have written about it. I continue to write about it. But at some point, it feels repetitive. Like the earlier few lines. But today I will “really” write it. Hopefully, I won’t bring any metaphors or hide between the lines!

I am in pain, mentally and emotionally. I am hurt on the inside. I have felt hurt for as long I can remember. But I put on a façade and tell everyone that I am okay. No! I am not! I am not okay! I never was, am, and I don’t know whether I ever will be. There is a commotion inside, and that never settles. The mind is restless. While things happen and people console that it is alright since it happens for a good reason, you try to calm that restlessness in the mind. It feels better to know that there is a greener side and that there will be a knock on the door called opportunity. While the mind doesn’t stay calm for long, another thing happens, and there are voices it is for the good. I calm the mind saying that it is just round the corner. While I am in these phases, I write it down. Because writing is my solace. And I end writing that painful post about the pain that the mind is in, that I am in, while I start to feel a bit relieve and feeling that peace approacing me, there is another thing that happens. And I repeat the whole process over and again, hoping that one day it will just end. And honestly, I am getting tired of trying to write about this everytime, differently every time. I have a whole book with pages filled with this and I wonder is this how it is going to be, for the rest of the life! Is this anyway how life should be? That metamorphical rock that I keep carrying just keeps getting heavier. At one point, I just might collapse and there is no coming back when it does!

______

.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

.unblur

Somethings always come with a price.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

Unblur

Colours. How fascinating are they? And how beautiful they are. And yet the fascination, my fascination lies with them two; monochome. You ask why? I wish I knew. Or perhaps, I wish I could explain. So tell me, what does happiness mean to you? How happy are you, right now? If not, don’t worry, you will be! How often do you look forward and want to be happy all the time? Wouldn’t you agree if anyone said that happiness is a beautiful place to be in? Of course it is a beautiful place to be in. And nothing makes me more glad to know you all are happy!

But amidst all this aura, it pulls me down a little. Don’t get me wrong, I love happiness. And also, I am scared of it. Because if there’s anything experience taught me anythimg, time and again, that there’s always a yang for yin, white for black, good for bad and sad for happy. Well, that does sound a little strtched.. something like out of context, doesn’t it? There won’t be anyone more ‘happier’ than me, if you said that there’s no alternative for happiness. But unlike you, I beg to differ. No, I am not trying to put a pessimistic approach or kill that optimistic mind of yours. I am speaking from mere experience. I agree with the odds that the percentage is different. For you happiness is a hundred percent, while for me sadness. There I did it again, brought the pessimistic viewpoint. I really can’t help it. And like I said, I am speaking from mere experience of a lifetime, so far! I wish it were a hazy opinion, a heresay, a lie, blurred emotion. But, time and again, I have seen it come back, like a stone in the ocean to ripples of tsunami, like a voice in mountain to multitude of echoes, piercing a million times over. Can the

. ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

Price

.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : unblur

.isolate

We build walls not to keep ourselves from the outside world, but to keep our demons locked up.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

_____

They ask me why do you write so much, why do I keep everything to myself, why can’t you love anyone, why don’t you hangout with people. Question, just too many questions with no answers. I smile. Like I always do. And while they wait for an elaborate answer, I observed over in my mind as to how to tell someone that it’s a dark place inside and letting people in might turn out to be the last thing they would want to do. Dark? They mock. As if they haven’t seen what dark was, they say under their breath. As if you are a special case, why even exaggerate. They mock. And all this while, I still haven’t told that it was dark inside either. I didn’t say anything yet. Because perhaps it wasn’t about the darkness inside. It wasn’t about the silently screaming voices. Or the battle inside to break through the shackles that drag them down. It wasn’t even about the suffocating thoughts that drown the mind in agony and pain. May be it’s about keeping the demons inside that no one ever even gets the shadow of it.

 

.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : isolate

.deep

The time sometimes deepens the wounds.
. ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

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They say that time heals. I did believe it. Little did I know how blind I was. May be what time does is cover the ripped using that paper tape, which could and will rip apart anytime and there’s nothing the time can do about it. But what hurts more is that despite everything we do to heal, they do leave a scar. Some carry it with a brave symbol for over powering their short comings while some scratch the healing scars as they are too afraid to look through it, or perhaps that scar doesn’t let us get past it. Because that scar is more of a memory reminding us of the things we did and the things we should have done. Though, I admire the people who leave these scars while they move on with their business as if nothing has ever happened. But the ones nursing their lost time are still showing off that bright smile despite breaking down on the inside, every moment.

_____

.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. Since I am kicking it off, I would be starting off with a couple of posts with will of the above format. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : .deep

Generosity

I don’t usually do awards, mostly because I rarely deserve any. But I am very much humbled by the people who do believe that I  deserve it. So, I would like to thank not only the ones who have nominated me, but also each and everyone here reading. I really appreciate it.

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The Awesome Blogger Award

awesome-blogger-award

I would like to thank Hira who blogs at Hira Chaudary, An endeavour of self perception for nominating me for “The Awesome Blogger Award”.

Question by Hira :

If you could travel anywhere, where would it be?
Everywhere. Why pass up such a great opportunity. But whoever is sponsoring this is going to have one hell of a day figuring out the expenses.

What is your biggest accomplishment?
Honestly, I don’t have one. But ask me about disappointments, I have a whole library of things to tell.

What is the most amazing blog you’ve ever come across?
Ah, this is a trick question. I will be completely honest and point out the one that does stand out from the rest. ALL. Yes, all blogs are the most amazing that I have come across. They all are unique writers and have a story to tell which intrigues me even more.

Chocolate or Lollies?
Chocolates, anyday and night.

What’s the best advice anyone ever gave you?
Oh, I apologize because I have a habit of not remembering things or sometimes even listening to them. So, best advice? I don’t think so anyone gave me one. Otherwise, I would be in a much better place than I am right now.

What is your dream job?
Honestly, I don’t want to do any job. I just want a never ending bank balance and that’s is. Call me an asshole or whatever you want, that is what my dream job would be.

What’s your favourite flavour of ice cream?
I don’t eat ice cream. Yeah, shocking, right?

_____

 

Too Much Information Tag

TMI

 

I would like to thank Rudra Makwana who blogs at  Tinte for  nominating me for the TMI tag.

TMI Tag Questions:

1: What are you wearing?
T-shirt, Shirt and Jeans

2: Ever been in love?
No. Never will be.

3: Ever had a terrible breakup?
Was never in love, so a hard pass on this.

4: Any tattoos?
No. But I am scouting for that one perfect tattoo.

5: Any piercings?
Nope.

6: Favorite band?
No, I listen to mostly Pop music. I just want good music and sometimes good lyrics.

7: Something you miss? 
The money I never had, apparently

8: Favorite song?
Currently, Broken People

9: How old are you?
Old enough to have Mid-Life Crisis.

10: Zodiac sign?
Capricorn.

11: Quality you look for in a partner?
I wasn’t looking for a partner. Because never fall in Love. Because too broken on the inside.

12: Favorite Quote?
Nothing comes to mind. So, basically no favorite quotes.

13: Favorite color?
Black. Like my soul.

14: Loud music or soft?
Loud fucking music. I got noise cancelling headphones for the same reason.

15: Where do you go when you’re sad?
Coffee shop. Music. And with my book or laptop.

16: How long does it take you to shower?
Long enough to have great thoughts and forget them when I come out.

17: How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?
I calculate that on how late I get. So, pretty late.

18: Ever been in a physical fight?
I wish.

19: Turn on?
Hot girls. Hands down.

20: Turn off?
Being full of oneself and being way too stupid, exceeding the predefined limit.

21: Fears?
Of living.

22: Last thing that made you cry?
I tried. I guess my tears have dried up.

23: Last time you said you loved someone?
Never said that. Never really loved anyone.

24: Meaning behind your Blog Name?
Lost in the Echo. Because I just want to fade away like that voice that was never heard.

25: Last book you read?
Origin by Dan Brown, still reading.

26: The book you’re currently reading?
Origin by Dan Brown.

27:  Last show you watched?
Friends.

28:  The relationship between you and the person you last texted?
Brother, cousin.

29: Favorite food?
ALL.

30: Places you want to visit?
Everywhere.

31: Do you have a crush?
Duh!

32: Favorite flavor of sweet?
As long as it is sweet.

33: What instruments do you play??
None.

34: Favorite piece of jewelry?
Bracelets and Necklaces, I guess. But noting gold or fancy.

35: Last sport you played?
Badminton.

36: Last song you sang?
Does anyone have a death wish?

37: Favorite chat up line?
Hey.

38: Last time you hung out with anyone?
This weekend. With My coffee, book and laptop.

39: What’s your favorite drink?
Coffee.

40: How tall are you?
5’6

41: How much do you weigh?
Overweight.

42: Last time you were insulted?
Everyday. One way or the other. I do the most, but still.

43: Favorite show?
FRIENDS

44: Favorite Actor?
Tom Cruise – This has become my standard answer.

45: Who should answer these questions next?
Anyone who has come this far deeserves to writes the answers. I am not big on nominating people and hence I apologise. But if you feel like this might give a better picture of yourself to the readers then go ahead and write the answers.

____

The Liebster Award

I would like to thank Jyoti who used to blog  for nominating me for the The Liebster Award.

Questions by Jyoti :

Which is your favorite book, and why?
This is a trick question. I want to impartial to books and won’t favorite some book and disappoint others.

Why did you choose to write on WordPress?
Because it is much easier and user friendly. I guess you meant blogging, but I had been blogging for over 8 years now and wordpress seemed like the best medium to do it. I regret not starting in thin from the beginning.

Which is your favorite color, and why?
Black. Because, that’s how I am on the inside.

If you were to wake up as a bird the next morning, what would be your reaction?
Free travelling? Hell Yeah!

Do you think that Light is what we need to spread in this world? If yes, how would you spread the light?
I think the first step in spreading anything is understand exactly the darkness that is surrounding us. Without exactly understanding anything it would be pretty useless however good you are at spreading the light or whatever/likewise. After understanding the exact factors that keeps one grounded, we can proceed to take necessary steps and precautions to help that person out.

What is Life according to you?
Basically a struggle. Life long struggle. Some do get it easy, while some work hard, while other’s (like yours truly) find it a bit tad struggle, or may be a lot of struggle.

Name a few dream destinations of yours, and mention with whom would you like to travel to those places?
Everywhere on the planet. Seriously. Well, I have thought for a while and no one’s name pop ups in my mind. I guess the answer is pretty clear. I would like travel the world alone.

Are you a pet lover? If yes, which is your favorite pet?
Yes, I think so. I seemed to have grown a lot of fondness for dogs, and I need one asap.

Mention one of your favorite songs and also mention your favorite line from it!
Broken People, Logic & Rag ‘n’ Bone Man – Bright (Movie)
We are broken people now.
We are burnin’ out
So cold, I am bleeding now, now, now
Gonna let you down.

What do you fear the most in life, and why?
Living longer than I wanted to.

 

 

Alone

We are never alone, we are just looking for someone who understands.

Somewhere out there someone is writing, writing their pain away, hoping to be free, hoping to break through the weight that is pulling them down, suffocating with each breath they take and the heavier the heart gets. But however huge the number of words on the pages might be, and however little relief they might be getting, the pain, that isolated pain still stings. Despite the huge burden inside, they put on a bright smile hoping that no one would see through their eyes and figure out what they truly say. And the thought that no one would ever understand just pinches a little more.

Meanwhile, somewhere out there someone else is in writing, writing their pain away, just like the earlier people, hoping that they might not be alone afterall.

_____

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#connectingThoughts
A something that is prompt-based or perhaps something as complicated (or may be not) as love, or as vast as life. Now you might be wondering what the something is that was mentioned a little earlier, it could be anyting from poetry to prose, a single line to a whole thesis.
Connecting Thoughts” was coined by Dhwani, who blogs at Sunshine came up with a collaborative idea of writing something on a weekly basis, with an aim to motivate people and more importantly, connect with them. Hoping to see you join the bandwagon.

.inhibitions

We cross the line never meant to cross.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

_____

More often an now, we come across an impossible situation where we have to make a choice, a decision that will probably decide the present and the circumstantial future. And the problem is not usually the choice we have to make, but the fact that there is something beautiful on the other side, however temporary or floating, we still want to cross the barricades of morality, even after knowing that it’s the wrong thing to do. The outcome of it is pretty simple, we enjoy crossing those barricades but then again we regret it instantly because we have this voice in the head shouting at us about the wrong choice we made, the same voice which was shouting at us to make the right choice earlier to finally crossing that line.

It’s a dark place to be in, before and after. And it’s eats us up on the inside. We try to justify in some way but there is no justification of what was done that could help us from this very inhibition.

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_____

.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. Since I am kicking it off, I would be starting off with a couple of posts with will of the above format. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : .inhibitions

.magic

 

Those eyes, and a world hidden in them.
. ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

img_0372

Eyes are the gateway to ones’ soul. We might have heard this a couple too many times. Most of it must be from me. I am usually the one who doesn’t look at anyone’s eyes. I fear I would sneak into their world and I understand their true emotions which more often than not is not exactly the same as they portray on the outside. No, I am not saying that I can read people, but from my experience I tend to understand the person’s emotions when they are talking to me, which usually shouts uninterested. Over the course of time, I have isolated myself than to involve myself in other’s scrutiny. Why even? But then again, we come across people who without doing anything intimidate us. Mostly its the eyes.

It was something like that with her as well. I never talked to her but yet whenever I saw those eyes, they spoke a million things all at once. Like a whole universe was inside of her and every time her eyes sparkle, it lights up the whole world around us.

______

I have been putting off things that I want to do in the name of getting my mojo back or say the good times to thrive, but lately I haven’t got anything do, so now I am doing a project to keep myself occupied a bit if not nothing. So, I came up with a project for myself.

.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. Since I am kicking it off, I would be starting off with a couple of posts with will of the above format. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : .Magic

Never Again

We cross the lines labelled never to cross.
– eɴʏɢma

She had been holding on to it for quite a while. There was a lot going on in her mind. And it was getting frustrating with each passing moment. Even though what has occupied her mind is a beautiful memory yet, she had been feeling about it all this while. It has been two days and she was probably dying to speak to anyone so that she could ease the burden on her shoulders. What could it be which is weighing her down so much in spite of that memory being a beautiful one? She had been feeling bad because of what she had done and it is morally questionable. As if she had thought of the moral quotient or so to speak her integrity.

“I kissed another guy”

She met him online on Twitter. A few words here and a few there, a little flirting and a lot more love (or so it might seem like), a bit of truth and lot of falsity, a bit of infatuation a lot of lust. It seemed mutual, the infatuation..er the lust. The love is still a questionable aspect because both were in a relationship, with someone else. Numbers were exchanged and chats turned to video calls and the rest was history. But all changed one day.

It was the day when he told that he was still in a relationship and that this girl from Twitter was a happy time pass and that this promise of getting intimate was still on the cards because that was what he was looking for. A fling on the side while having a girlfriend. She was devastated with the development that blew up in her face. She wasn’t as faithful as she should be and yet this came as a shock to her. She felt used, she felt betrayed, she felt hurt and in all she felt cheated.

He was blocked from contacting her. She made sure of that. Because she didn’t want to be that person who would be manipulated and used for a casual intimate encounter. But…she used to check him out once in a while. She was intimidated. She was in love, but didn’t want to admit that, to anyone and to herself. Because at the back of her head there was a voice shouting about all the morality of the situation she was putting herself in.

She got a call from him. She was shocked and yet at the same time intrigued that he called her. He was outside her college. She was at loss of words. She was in his car and she had lost herself. Then she kissed. They both kissed. She enjoyed every moment of that. She wanted more of that. But that moral police roaming around with a siren on top had been shouting that this is wrong, that she should stop it, that she should not even encourage it. In spite of all the red tape and X marks she went to his home, in her own accord. The fantasy had to happen. She wanted it to happen. She could have avoided all that because in some distant corner of her mind there was a voice shouting to her to not do any of it, standing over the moral integral line and urging her to not cross that line. She heard that voice, its agitated-frustrated and extremely loud but it faded away when he went all cheesy on her.

She knew that it was wrong but then again her desire to make that fantasy true was more strong. It overpowered her and she didn’t have much choice. Well, she had but she choose to ignore it nonetheless. And then again, it was the best one she ever had. She was beyond happy. She was elated. She enjoyed every bit of it.

It was a day after that she came out from the trance and saw all the moral police with their angry faces. She was supposed to feel guilty, but she didn’t. She was getting frustrated about her inability to feel even a bit of guilt for the things she did. She wanted to share with someone but then again she was scared of driving people away because of the weight of the thing she was about to share.

_______

She didn’t want something this to happen again, ever. She didn’t want anything like this to happen in the first place. She didn’t want to meet him. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t even want to think about him. She knows how wrong it is, how immoral it is, this being unfaithful to someone else is. And yet she did every single bit of it. But then again, she doesn’t regret what she has done. She will probably (not probably, definitely) do it again all over again. She knows that too that she will. Perhaps, she wants so.

_______

Let’s take a moment to reflect at the people and their behaviour. Being faithful is an integral part of a person. But then again when they happen to be unfaithful what are the possible reasons for going ahead with it? Does it have to do anything with them being unhappy with the present relationship? Or is it the fun or excitement in crossing that line? Do reflect your opinions about the people being in such situations and crossing the line they know they shouldn’t cross! What’s your take on it? Well let me repharase and be more blunt at this because I am sure people have opinions like always but when it comes to them they evade. So, what would you do? You love someone but you have a desire to be someone else! And you know it is wrong, but you want it very very badly. What would you do?

But let’s just appreciate this quote that blew my mind. What beauty is this? :

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