It has always been particularly difficult for me to witness a heartbreak. To see the shimmer of a hopeful eye fade away into a visible silence and a cold, seething hatred filling the vacuum that it leaves behind isn't the best sights in the world and yet, I have it all too often, mostly in the mirror.
Last evening as I settled down for a warm conversation with a dear friend and her boyfriend, the tension was too obvious to miss. I was aware of the issues that the couple faced and had always found comfort in the fact that they were still at an age where confusion was only guidance they had. I had become too hopeful that they would find a way to overcome their differences, that happiness would prevail and yet... sitting on the floor of the smoking zone of the posh pub, reality slapped the two of us hard across our faces. It was over.
My friend took it with her usual courageous attitude. She put on her reluctant smile and spoke at lengths of looking at life with more than an ounce of logic. The man sat with us with a distant look in his eyes. Of the two, I have always found the man more expressive. Yes, the first time we met and I forced him to admit the way he felt for my friend, there was a beautiful smile over those honey brown eyes. An instant warmth that put me, an obsessively protective female friend, instantly at ease with him. But that was a few months ago. Like a few others I know, this relationship too did not survive the blast of this winter.
Later at night, I was hardly surprised when my friend called me up for a chat. Despite the fact that my heart went out to her, I felt a strange sense of cold within me, and pain. As if someone had quite rudely poked a finger into an old wound instigating the puss that had been hidden from the eye to gush through. What could possibly be said to console a soul living precariously on the edge of hope and despair? How do tell someone that it is not going to be okay? No matter what anyone has ever told me or continues to tell me, it seems meaningless.
Last evening as I settled down for a warm conversation with a dear friend and her boyfriend, the tension was too obvious to miss. I was aware of the issues that the couple faced and had always found comfort in the fact that they were still at an age where confusion was only guidance they had. I had become too hopeful that they would find a way to overcome their differences, that happiness would prevail and yet... sitting on the floor of the smoking zone of the posh pub, reality slapped the two of us hard across our faces. It was over.
My friend took it with her usual courageous attitude. She put on her reluctant smile and spoke at lengths of looking at life with more than an ounce of logic. The man sat with us with a distant look in his eyes. Of the two, I have always found the man more expressive. Yes, the first time we met and I forced him to admit the way he felt for my friend, there was a beautiful smile over those honey brown eyes. An instant warmth that put me, an obsessively protective female friend, instantly at ease with him. But that was a few months ago. Like a few others I know, this relationship too did not survive the blast of this winter.
Later at night, I was hardly surprised when my friend called me up for a chat. Despite the fact that my heart went out to her, I felt a strange sense of cold within me, and pain. As if someone had quite rudely poked a finger into an old wound instigating the puss that had been hidden from the eye to gush through. What could possibly be said to console a soul living precariously on the edge of hope and despair? How do tell someone that it is not going to be okay? No matter what anyone has ever told me or continues to tell me, it seems meaningless.
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