Sometimes you have
no control over where you end. Destiny, fate and the other know it alls always
interfere. Yes, I used to be the master of my own future. But now that the end
is here I would like to blame any one but myself.
I can’t blame her
though. How could I? Her actions aren’t the product of her choices, or maybe
they are. He was her choice, wasn’t he? But can you define the matters of the heart
as mere choice? Irrespective, I choose to blame Him.
Trust. Such a
horrid word. Such a disastrous emotion. Nothing good has ever come from it.
Look where it brought me, on the floor helpless and in pieces. I would have
survived if it weren’t for him. I wouldn’t be explaining my abrupt departure
from this world if it weren’t for her choices. If it weren’t for him, if it
weren’t for trust.
He wanted a
rendezvous. A quick do where everything was fun, games, hearts and rainbows.
She wanted a future. A steady ship they could sail together. Not unicorns and
pots of gold but a beautiful cottage with a wide porch, a swing set and a white
picket fence.
Me? I wanted
nothing. I don’t think it’s my place to have anything to do with it either. I
just watched silently. Pretty sure my opinion wouldn’t count. But anyone who
watched them would have sensed that this was how it would end. She would stay
up and watch him sleep; he wouldn’t even close his eyes when they kissed.
So it wasn’t a
surprise when he left. Leaving her and her white picket fence fantasies to
themselves. She should have ideally been strong. Gotten over it and moved on.
But when have humans ever been known to do the right thing? It was only
natural. Normal
The endless tears,
the large tubs of chocolate chip ice cream, the mood swings, the choice to
avoid the world, the denial to accept reality and the random mindless
ramblings. But this is never expected. I was glad she was quenching her thirst,
but why put the blame on me for what her choices did to her? Why look at me
like I’m the genius that invented heart breaks?
I hate the way she
stared at me with accusatory eyes. “Always half empty”, she said. “Always half
empty”, she repeated. “Never half full, always half empty”. And she hurled me
across the room.
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