She came, laid her elbows on that rusty iron fence, pinned her fingers together and sight-fully dived into the deep ocean. It was her who inspired him. It was her stillness that irritated him. Why? Why did she come every sunset? He knows why he came! For him, it was meditation, it was setting his eyes loose and traveling to where the end of the world lies. Why did she come? He decided to ask her.
Clapping his hands once, pressing his palms on his knees, he rose up and marched like a determined soldier toward that mystic fortress.
The moment he reached her, she turned her eyes to face his questioning face. To his pathetic attempt, she imprisoned a silent scream in her eyes that were flooding with tides of tears. Then, she lifted her pain with the movement of her perishing smile and spoke with a trembling voice:
“To the deepest of this ocean, I set my secret for sail. To the eyes of this world, I keep my pain unnoticed. To this ocean of secrets, I reveal my wounds and share the burden of hearts, the hearts that are broken with losses.”
It was after midnight when sleep suddenly fled out of his eyes. It was after that when he traveled all over his bed to find the perfect spot where sleep resided. It was then when he surrendered to the urge of going up and writing. He must write the guilt and shame out of his heart. He squeezed his eyes one last time; maybe sleep will get in and finally rest. But, all was in vain, and he must explain.
Grabbing the papers and the pen resting on them was a hard decision to make. But the remorse storming inside of him must be sent away. If he is going to write, how should he address her? Dear Beloved? She was never a beloved. She didn’t take his breath away. She didn’t make his heart beat faster. In fact, she almost slowed it down, he thought.
Dear friend? The plan was to fall in love. He wanted her to be the one that will fit in that empty frame carried in his heart, he thought.
No, she was not the one. But yet, she turned his life upside down. The memories of all who came before her bumped in his head. To leave him, they were always right. And by them, he was always left. Why did this one stay? Was she that desperate? Or, was he that good? Oh, yes, he remembers. He was that good. Good in lies that is. Pretending to be perfect, claiming morals he never had before, and radiating the honor he always desired. He didn’t break her heart for her sake. No, he remembers now, it was for his sake. But breaking her was breaking his pride, was crashing his ego, and was turning him from the usual victim into the perfect slayer. And for that, he must not ignite the flame he put out. He must not break her again.
He must go back to sleep, and find the lost peace that he had once before.
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