She cut quite a plaintive figure standing there. A slight girl dressed in clothes too big for her, she stood on the doorstep, one hand on the doorknob and the other in the pocket of her shorts. She watched him walk away and I could see that it was taking immense effort for her not to break down. He turned once and smiled at her. She smiled back at him and blew him a kiss. The moment he turned away, her smile faded. In that moment, watching her watching him, I could see the fear and pain she had been pushing away. In that moment before she could put her mask on again, I could see how much she loved him and the future she could never have.

Then she shook her head and smiled, in control again, weakness buried, fear quelled, if only for a while. She walked inside closing the door behind her.

I gave the door one last look and walked away.

Fools

We are very good at lying to ourselves. At fooling ourselves into believing everything is perfectly fine. At making our mind believe that our lives are just how we want them to be.

We are very good at hiding the truth. We conveniently tide over those things that scare us or we just pretend that they don't exist. We lock away all our doubts and fears so they won't haunt us anymore. We smile and we laugh and we wear our masks in all their glory. We cover cracks and scrapes with glue and tape and pretend that they've been fixed. We hide away the pain and the tears and we tell ourselves that it'll all get better in the end. We fool ourselves. Lie to ourselves. Every day.

Which is why when we see the end coming, we try our best to pretend we don't. When we find ourselves losing control, we clench our fists harder and lie a little more. We rejoice in denial. And revel in illusions.

And then reality hits. At our weakest moments. When we are tired of lying and our hands are too weary to hold up our masks. That's when reality attacks and shows us what we've been trying so hard to avoid. That life isn't fine or happy or okay. Things have gone wrong and people will leave. The end is close and heartbreak is near. That life isn't what we've made it out to be.

Reality bites. And we are left to pick up the pieces.

For once

I wish, for once in my life, I could let go. That for once, I didn’t have to worry or bother about everyone else. That for once I didn’t have to protect everyone else. That for once I didn’t have to be the responsible one.

I wish, for once in my life, I could be the one taken care of. I could be the one who got the hug because I needed it. That I could for once, let go of everything and enjoy myself, like everyone else. That for once people understood that I am not a party-pooper and that I just care a lot. That I want people to be safe. That I don’t see the humour in embarrassing situations. That I care.

I wish, for once in my life, I could be reckless. Without wondering and caring about the consequences. That for once I could do something without thinking about it a thousand times. That for once, I could do something stupid and careless. That for once, I made a story that one day, I could look back and laugh at. That one day, I could do something that I could tell my grandchildren about. That there was one time I did something I wanted to without caring about being a hypocrite or a liar. Without questioning myself.

I wish I could let myself feel. I wish I had it in me to be uninhibited.

I wish, for once I wasn’t the weak link. That I was the foundation, the glue instead. That for once I wasn’t taking charge. That for once there was someone I could count on to catch me if ever I did let go.

For once in my life, I want to be needed. I want to be wanted.

For once in my life, I want to be able to really live. Without judging myself for it.