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I die every night.
Truly, I hadn’t been myself since we formed an attachment. I didn’t know how to control my emotions anymore- perhaps, it was because I’d loved her so much. Love, for some unknown reasons, made me weak- and it hurt me that I was weak.
One night, I’d returned from work, looking tired and haggard with pain. I was overwhelmed with pain, and so, I felt I needed a break from the world. I got to my room, went into the shower, pumped some water and I stood in it, crying and singing altogether. I cried in different rhythm, one that was consoling, and one that was tears-teasing. I stood still in the shower, wondering and wondering where I’d gone wrong.
My tears rolled into my mouth, I gasped at the cold waters escaping into my nose, I massaged my nose and faced the storm of falling in love. I cried.
If tears were words, I’d written them every night and every morning. I’d wiped my skin with my white towel and I’d retired to my bed, staring constantly at my phone to receive a message from her, and yet there was none from her. The more eagered I became to receive her message, the more painful I felt.
I died that night. I died for good. I died indeed and I died every night. You know the weight of agony that love carries when you’re not loved anymore, and yet you wish that they could just be in your life and patch things with you. You know that kind of weight you feel in your heart, in your lungs, in your head when you wish that they would be the kind of person you want them to be, and yet you just couldn’t mould them into the kind of person you want them to be. You know that pain when you prayed to forget them every night and yet they got stuck in your head, in your heart and in your life- you asked God whether He was being fair enough. You must have felt that sharp-screeching pain that bruised your heart, swayed your soul and kept you all-night, thinking and overthinking, hoping for a sleep that won’t come, and you had to hug your pillow so tight in such a way that you wished they were the ones lying beside you. You would have no choice but to look at your text messages, you scrolled through them and finally landed on where it all began, from the late replies, to the many excuses, to the many stories of her change of behaviour, to the many messages that carried her accusations that you were cheating on her without a proof, to the many “Seen-and-no-reply” messages you had sent her, and to the many lies she had told you. You could hold no longer- you broke down in tears and died. You died in your bed, you realised that your heart had stopped beating, you could no longer think clearly, your eyes had gone translucent, you saw yourself in a world different from where you had been, and then you discerned that it was indeed over for you- your part in love- your life in love- and that love then came with death. And once again, like every night, you accepted death- and you died.
© mohamedDk@Allahuakbarr
One night, I’d returned from work, looking tired and haggard with pain. I was overwhelmed with pain, and so, I felt I needed a break from the world. I got to my room, went into the shower, pumped some water and I stood in it, crying and singing altogether. I cried in different rhythm, one that was consoling, and one that was tears-teasing. I stood still in the shower, wondering and wondering where I’d gone wrong.
My tears rolled into my mouth, I gasped at the cold waters escaping into my nose, I massaged my nose and faced the storm of falling in love. I cried.
If tears were words, I’d written them every night and every morning. I’d wiped my skin with my white towel and I’d retired to my bed, staring constantly at my phone to receive a message from her, and yet there was none from her. The more eagered I became to receive her message, the more painful I felt.
I died that night. I died for good. I died indeed and I died every night. You know the weight of agony that love carries when you’re not loved anymore, and yet you wish that they could just be in your life and patch things with you. You know that kind of weight you feel in your heart, in your lungs, in your head when you wish that they would be the kind of person you want them to be, and yet you just couldn’t mould them into the kind of person you want them to be. You know that pain when you prayed to forget them every night and yet they got stuck in your head, in your heart and in your life- you asked God whether He was being fair enough. You must have felt that sharp-screeching pain that bruised your heart, swayed your soul and kept you all-night, thinking and overthinking, hoping for a sleep that won’t come, and you had to hug your pillow so tight in such a way that you wished they were the ones lying beside you. You would have no choice but to look at your text messages, you scrolled through them and finally landed on where it all began, from the late replies, to the many excuses, to the many stories of her change of behaviour, to the many messages that carried her accusations that you were cheating on her without a proof, to the many “Seen-and-no-reply” messages you had sent her, and to the many lies she had told you. You could hold no longer- you broke down in tears and died. You died in your bed, you realised that your heart had stopped beating, you could no longer think clearly, your eyes had gone translucent, you saw yourself in a world different from where you had been, and then you discerned that it was indeed over for you- your part in love- your life in love- and that love then came with death. And once again, like every night, you accepted death- and you died.
© mohamedDk@Allahuakbarr
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