"I needed you, Rhea. I needed you." He whispered with his breath moving spasmodically. And although I tried to hang the call right there, I was somehow stuck, waiting for him to talk; panting to listen to his voice.
I know it has been years we talked, we met, or we even saw each other. But he has tried to reach me, continuously. *No, Rhea, stop imagining things that never happened. He never tried to, he just, out of the blue, somehow, finds you, even though you've said to him to stop bothering you. It is no love* What d'you do when they call it love, and despite you know it is no love, you keep on killing that part of yours which knows the truth? Somehow, he hung the call. I knew he'd try to talk to me again, I knew I need to save myself. But, save myself from whom? From someone who betrayed me, or from someone in whom I had put all my trust? The reason I left, he is well aware of, yet he calls me. He says he loves me; no he doesn't, how can he love me when he only needs me for his own benefit?
Everything around me was rhetoric. Everything around me was exploding into nothingness. Everything I knew would mean so much to me, was collapsing into flashes of past. Everything I held close to me, was shattering into pieces.
It has been more than a year, yet the past haunts me, yet the future doesn't calls me, and yet, I can't tell this to anyone. I can't tell someone what struggles I have faced; what circumstances I have been through; what good and bad I've realised; and what I'd never wish to be a part of again, has happened. But how do you erase past? How do you not let it walk past you again? How do you betray the betrayal?
Of this all, a question I'd never stop asking myself is: How did you envisaged a love that never existed?
I wish people come into your life, and be a part of it forever; but never just a reason to make you realise how bad you are and to upset you.
I've grown a little darker these days. Or maybe I've just been in the shadow so long it's hard to tell which shade I am.
When I was a kid, my little fingers always had this fascination with those pretty pink shades. Always wondering how clouds would look like cotton candy, if pink. Those moments don't come back, do they?
When I grew a little older, rainbow was the most fascinating thing I'd come across. No combinations, no contrast. Just few random shades put together, becoming one of the most beautiful making of nature.
When I reached a stage where nights seemed calmer, I started caressing the darker hues, filling my voids with blacks and greys. Gazing up at the sky, I wanted nothing more than becoming a part of it.
But now, all I see is how the paint splashes all over the sky, when the sun sets and how I wish I could put it into words. Or how the clouds land on earth just for a moment and how I keep wishing to escape with them. Or how from loving one shade, I've stained the canvas in so many colours that I have lost my hue among them.
And when the time comes, maybe I'll find it was just one shade I've been chasing all along.