You owe me a sorry, and I’m not sorry about telling you this


That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I don’t care if you cried, but I, couldn’t sleep, that night.

And it was all your fault.

It has taken me long, long nights, that seemed longer,  because I had a persistent, unmoving lump of self doubt latched on my mind and stuck in my throat as I pondered and worried, and worried, till a film of tears clung to my eyes and my faith lay broken in shards at my feet . It has taken me long, very, very long to realise that it has always been your fault.

It was, and has always been, your fault.

Don’t you dare tell me otherwise.

I am lonely these days. I spend too much of my time talking to the wind and forgetting my way on straight paths I walk on every day. I feel lost, under the sheets of my bed, I feel, lost, in my mind and I miss you.

I miss you when I am trying not to tear up in the middle of the street. I miss you when, sometimes, I wake up in the morning and I don’t have the strength to begin the day. I am not myself these days and this isn’t the best phase of my life and I miss you, because these are, exactly, the kind, of times, you’d promised to be with me in and because somehow, I managed, to take your words, and sketch you, carve you, in moments and dusks you’d promised to share, in tears and gloom you’d promised to bear, in the uncertain and heavy times, you’d promised, to be with me in.

I can’t help the fact that dusks and tears feel incomplete, bare with their carvings, deep, with nothing to fit into them anymore, and isn’t a whole, what we all search for?

There’s nothing romantic about the fact that you, were, my first heartbreak, because, that night, it was my faith that you toyed with, and my faith, that you broke. You don’t play with things so precious and expect to get away, but anger is a vice I don’t count in myself.

Just like, courage, is a virtue, I don’t count in you.

There’s nothing poignant about the fact that you still remain in my mind. You are a lesson I don’t expect to ever forget, but I don’t trust time, and it might be, that you might find me someday and conversation might flow, for I don’t trust words too, anymore, but right now, I’ve found the strength to raise myself and to believe that my heart was right all along. I make mistakes and I will make more of them and I’ll break myself and I’ll grow wings and no one is allowed to cut them off.

I’ll apologise but I won’t be anyone’s apology.

And remember, it was your fault.

It was all your fucking fault.


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