She Left

She left.

She left everything behind. She crossed cities, small towns and state lines.

She left behind frayed friendships and mistakes and love gone terribly wrong.

She left it all behind in the blink of an eye.

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Adulting

From losing a 10-year-old friendship to making new friends within 10 days is a big task.

From having the whole class to play with to having no one to sit beside you is a big pain.

From liking every new song that comes on to being stuck on the same old playlist is a big change.

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I’d Never Know…

I lost you when I was 9, and now, I’ll never know what it truly feels like to be loved. Whenever anyone came close, I pushed them away or hurt them tremendously because I could never forget what happened to you. That memory of you is etched on my mind like a permanent scar. On that date every year,  it’s painful; almost as if you were pulling strings of my heart. There is immense love there, but it hurts now. Is there a way to stop that pain? I know everyone has to leave someday but is it necessary to feel the pain for a lifetime? Will I ever, ever be happy without your memories? You should have taken your memories with you, shouldn’t you? Who would have known that what seemed to be the most naive yet most wonderful time of my life was soon to be followed by such tragedy? I’m sorry but your memories have become a curse for me now; it’s almost like, though you were the one who was gone, I am the one who died.

A.D.

Tears

“What are emotions?” one questioned.
“It’s the plural term of emotion, I guess?” the other wondered.
“So.. what is emotion?” one questioned again.
“I don’t know,” the other wondered again.
“Ah, but it’s countable right? As in you can count them?” one asked.
“I don’t know.” The other stopped wondering.
The two lads conversed in commas and full stops, their silent demeanour unknown to the outside world. The world beyond, however, listened.
The day before they had to part ways, they sat again on the exact spot- where the statue of a weeping man rested. It was a legacy left behind by the ancestors of this town and the mayor had thought it was a brilliant idea to set it up in the east side of the town. The statue was a representation of demise for the prisoners and freedom for those who escaped. All in all, it meant the weak perished.

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The one thing I noticed was that during those days, it would always rain heavily in the afternoon, at the worst of times. As the professional bike rider of the nearby vicinity, it was something of a ‘job’ for me to traverse the gravel to and fro the university where I studied and the home where I lived. Hearing the sound of the gears whirring as the other bikes passed me, I spotted a man with half-unkempt clothing and protruding earphones. But as soon as a drop of rain falls by the side of his face, I could see him whizzed past me like the drone of a cricket.

Chehara Vitaran