I whispered into his ears. I waited for a reaction.
Nothing.

I asked, 'What's wrong?'
Nothing.

'Why're you so quiet?'
Nothing.

'Okay then, I'll go.'
Nothing.
__________________________________________

The story goes like this:

There was once a man, married to a woman for as long as he could remember. He was a wealthy man, respected and well known. His woman, a lesser known yet respectable woman. On the exterior, they looked like the perfect couple. On the inside, they made believe they were the perfect couple.

As their lives unfolded, they seemed to drift apart (big surprise!) Soon he lost interest in her and she became yet another lifeless entity in the house. She realized it but didn't address it. Denial, they call it. Days went by and things were still unchanged, and soon enough he fell in love again. This time, with a different woman. She was prettier, smarter, funnier and everything seemed like an adventure with her. It's like when young love reels out. The oozing passion, the constant laughter, the ceasing moments, the hours of conversation and all those sickening acts of adoration for one another. They spent a chunk of time together. While the wife ran errands and took care of all the other objects in the house, all the other objects except herself.

The time had finally arrived when the new woman wanted legitimacy. The time had come, he realized, to break the wife's heart. He was determined to do it but he decided to do it in a decent way. For old time's sake, he thought. He called her and arranged to meet at their favorite restaurant for dinner. She had butterflies in her stomach. What if , she thought. What if this was the moment when all that she had subconsciously wished for was about to come true. She wore her best outfit, wore make-up just the way he liked it, and headed to meet him. She walked in to find their patent table empty. She sat at the table and ordered a glass of wine. While she waited she thought of a million and one things but everything seemed fuzzy because of the overwhelming emotions.

He finally arrived, he looked haggled. He was walking slowly and rather unsteadily. He eyes were filled with purpose. He sat across her, smiled at her. She smiled back, a half-smile. She knows, he thought. Beads of sweat gathered at his temples, his fingers twitched and for some odd reason his left arm had gone numb. Damn the spondylosis! They ordered the meal in silence. He couldn't even look at her face. Guilt, was an overpowering feeling. He was rehearsing the monologue in his head, for the thousandth time. The sentence formed, and he was about to spit out the cruel words, when just then, she broke into hysterical tears.Perplexed and amazed at the woman's intuition, he lost track. As a reflex, he held her hand and asked almost sincerely, 'What's wrong?'. She just sniffled sadly. Her dessert plate now looked like a runoff and she grabbed his hand tighter. He asked again and this time she looked up. Her brown eyes had never looked so empty like they did now. He shuddered. She tilted her head to the left, like she always did when she was about to say something important. And then the ominous words came out.

'I have leukemia. I have 3 months.'

Something changed right then, all the words that he had so carefully gathered over the period of time, seemed to chant incoherently in his head. Everything became white noise and his head felt like it was about to explode. Just then he decided against all his plans and his careful calculations. He just held her and they walked home- quietly and passively. He started to take care of her, take her to her favorite places, read her favorite books with her, sit with her for hours go fro long walks to unidentified places.

The new woman, kept calling him, he kept ignoring the calls until one day he sent her a text message saying it was over. No one knows for sure, what became of her.

And then the 3 months passed and so did the wife. He cried for a month.
He still walked to those unidentified places, alone this time. And it was on one of those walks that it suddenly struck him that in pretending to love her for those 3 months, he had in fact fallen in love with her again.

______________________________________________________________

Nothing.

Mystifying depth in her eyes,
they tell a story about her life.
They speak of that, that should not be told,
they yearn to see love, more than that can be showed.
they see the world through a glass,
they learn to smile, even to the masks.
the sadness that she tries to hide,
the things that she want to leave aside.
the times she wishes to be with him,
the times she longed to kiss him.
the hours she spent crying, trying to forget,
the days she spent in regret.
the mystery uncovered,
the truth discovered.
the things she wanted to say,
those that would get in her way.
knowing that the end was near,
at last she slept with nothing to fear.

Fall.

Dear Diary,
Today I was strolling down the market, on my own, with my iPod plugged in and Kanye West blaring at the highest possible volume when my phone buzzed. I looked down at it, unlocked the keypad without even looking at it and read what was the most meaningful text message I had gotten in the longest time.
No. It wasn't one of those spirit guides I have, telling me how to deal with seemingly impossible situations. It was someone else. Let's just call that person Rye. (How I love that name.) So Rye wrote to me about being a pain in the wrong place and how he would have to deal with it in the most merciless way if I didn't mend my ways soon. I read it at least three times before I could make sense of it. And then it hit me, I couldn't mend my ways anymore than I already have. I thought being 'friends' was all about loving each other for who they are and not who they want you to be. If the love is strong enough then you will bring about the change without so much as batting an eyelid.

I also had a sort of awakening. I realized, that when you are at your miserable best, everyone around you seems to be the happiest. I saw little girls holding their mother's hands and throwing a temper tantrum for some brand new bedazzled bag. Or young boys and girls, all smitten in love clutching each others hand as if just to prove that they were with each other. Old wrinkled couples squinting through glass windows looking at stuff to buy for their grandchildren, perhaps. I was so jealous.

I went and bought myself, a pack of cigarettes and lit the first. I inhaled the warm smoke and closed my eyes to wait for it to make me a little light headed. It worked, but only because I made myself believe it would. I took three more rounds of the market and finally decided to head home. In my mind, Rye's text still haunted me. But somewhere along the way, it gave me a certain amount of closure. No longer will I talk to an imaginary Rye when I'm lying in bed. No longer will I jump at the sound of my phone ringing. No longer will I keep typing in his name on Facebook to keep up with his status'. No longer will I look forward to anything. My mother says, that part of loving is letting go, (very cliche, I know.) and maybe it is time I let Rye go. For his own good. Because I love him so. But you know what holds me down to the ground is knowing that there can be no other person in this whole entire universe who could love him like I do. It's just that impossible.
So here's to you, Rye. A long prayer and a silent tear. I have realized that my dream and wish were both the exact same thing and thus, this chaos and misery were inevitable. Perhaps, Love is the only thing I have. (Excuse the plagiarism.)

My angel.

Suddenly, I'm running.
In circles, it seems. The building are whizzing past, and all the things around are just a blur.
A moment of immense agitation and confusion takes over me and I lose all senses of judgment in a matter of seconds. Nothing seems to be able to catch up to me. So much so, the wind can't get to me. It's like I'm in a vacuum. Where all hurt, all pain, all senses have been sucked out through this one tiny little orifice at the edge. It's magical. So freeing. So singular and yet so well designed into this compact structure filled with piercing questions aimed at my conscience.

Suddenly, I'm tied up.
In this web of desolation. The stickiness of the web, makes me shudder. Just then I realized I hate spiders, with more conviction than ever. I keep taking virtual cobwebs off me but they seem to be multiplying at umpteen speed. And then I lose focus. All I can see are millions and millions of nimbus black spiders, crawling their way to me. At one point, I actually thought one of them sneered at me. As if they knew how terrified I had been. The web gets stickier and engulfs me into it. I feel like I'm being sucked in.

Irony.