She lay in the middle of her bed, in the foetal position. The lights were off and her bed was still spread. Her body shook uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face, actually cascaded would be a more appropriate word. Who knew those tiny drops could cause such pain?
Wiping away the tears was a waste of time. They were coming faster and harder. If anyone were to see her they would think she was mourning. But who was to say she wasn’t? She was mourning. Love had died and she was the cause. If there was a worst-girlfriend-of-the-year-award, then it definitely had her name all over it; no doubt. He hadn’t left, but he might as well have. So she cried over his departure, not his physical departure but from her heart. For this moment he did not exist in her heart as he had. Maybe love had died the first day she gave into his charming smile and seductive eyes. If not then, it was unquestionably the day they had shared their first kiss in the rain. Better yet, it could have been the day they had traded in love for lust. Regardless of the situation, love was dead to her. Just for that moment she had to bury love six feet under so that she could soberly face the situation. The tears tore through her body mercilessly. It felt like a much awaited punishment. Perhaps she had sacrificed more of herself than was permissible in a relationship. No - she was too much of a human. That’s where the problem was. She was human – far too imperfect for this gent. He was used to utter perfection and she was fully flawed, like any normal being is. Though that couldn’t possibly be her fault; she had to remember to blame that one on The Great One. She hated to burden him, to tire him as she did. Last she had checked part of the job description in a relationship was to make each others load lighter. It was possible she had misunderstood. Or maybe it was a one way role. She needed to check on that. It devastated her that he made her better as he did. He wanted what was best for her but his methods often left her like this; broken, distressed and hurt. So after what seemed like an eternity, but was actually a grueling two hours, she sat up dried her tears and got into her bed and fell fast asleep. The mourning was over. You see this was the trend. Every so often she was forced to kill love so she could remind herself who she was and what she deserved. Love had to disappear so she could remember why she was with him in the first place. Only after mourning the death of love would she come to terms with the situation and readily face it. After that she’d revive love and go back to him with a sense of refreshed love. But she knew the truth; love would have to die soon. So for now she would enjoy the ride and thrill of love before love trampled on her again.
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