"You seem angry. What's wrong?'
"She doesn't see me anymore. I walk by her side when she runs, its like I am invisible."
"Do you know she is no longer with him?"
"I heard. I am happy."
"Why would you be happy?"
"Because I know she wasn't."
"How?"
"I heard her laughter, it was the most hideous and false sound I had ever heard."
"But how do you know it was because of him?"
"I heard her call his name out loud once. It cracked five times before coming out right."
"You want her too much, woman."
"How do I tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"Why am I happy that she is no longer committed?"
"I don't understand. I have seen her laughing and holding hands. Smiling at the mention of his name and counting days in his wait."
"And that's beautiful?"
"That's how they define love, don't they?"
Before answering I ponder on this question, how do they define love? Is it liberating or confining? Is it happy, but what is happiness. I was never sad in my life, not in its truest sense, but still I went ahead and took my life. I know when I see a sister, I can feel it my bones, the chill of death travelling through blood like a warm tranquil drug which convinces the mind of happiness. Happiness that finds solace in other people and looks around to fall on a man or woman. The chill takes away your illusions, takes away the tiring routine of 'being happy' and an endless effort to prove yourself. Prove yourself that you are better that the image in the mirror, better than the man you love, better than the word you write. But since its all lies, it fails terribly, and we are slipped into an abyss. I stand now, on the other side of the tunnel, the part where they light is. My friend, the woman I am talking to died accidentally, wanted to tease her mother and that simply went wrong. I did it, because I could.
"Define..love..hmm."
"I know, its highly confusing."
"No, its not. I know her because I have seen her walk in this park very late at night. And she has felt me in her shadow. Scared, maybe, but she likes company which puts no weight or pressure. A company that doesn't have to feed on her for existence. And I like her for that."
"You really are, obsessed with her."
"Why shouldn't I? She is not 'free'."
"Freedom now, really?"
"Yes. Happiness puts these walls around her, enslaves her. Freedom is not completely upsetting, but gives her the confidence of losing herself, be it to insaniy or happiness."
"What now?"
"We need to do something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Get her freedom back."
"She doesn't see me anymore. I walk by her side when she runs, its like I am invisible."
"Do you know she is no longer with him?"
"I heard. I am happy."
"Why would you be happy?"
"Because I know she wasn't."
"How?"
"I heard her laughter, it was the most hideous and false sound I had ever heard."
"But how do you know it was because of him?"
"I heard her call his name out loud once. It cracked five times before coming out right."
"You want her too much, woman."
"How do I tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"Why am I happy that she is no longer committed?"
"I don't understand. I have seen her laughing and holding hands. Smiling at the mention of his name and counting days in his wait."
"And that's beautiful?"
"That's how they define love, don't they?"
Before answering I ponder on this question, how do they define love? Is it liberating or confining? Is it happy, but what is happiness. I was never sad in my life, not in its truest sense, but still I went ahead and took my life. I know when I see a sister, I can feel it my bones, the chill of death travelling through blood like a warm tranquil drug which convinces the mind of happiness. Happiness that finds solace in other people and looks around to fall on a man or woman. The chill takes away your illusions, takes away the tiring routine of 'being happy' and an endless effort to prove yourself. Prove yourself that you are better that the image in the mirror, better than the man you love, better than the word you write. But since its all lies, it fails terribly, and we are slipped into an abyss. I stand now, on the other side of the tunnel, the part where they light is. My friend, the woman I am talking to died accidentally, wanted to tease her mother and that simply went wrong. I did it, because I could.
"Define..love..hmm."
"I know, its highly confusing."
"No, its not. I know her because I have seen her walk in this park very late at night. And she has felt me in her shadow. Scared, maybe, but she likes company which puts no weight or pressure. A company that doesn't have to feed on her for existence. And I like her for that."
"You really are, obsessed with her."
"Why shouldn't I? She is not 'free'."
"Freedom now, really?"
"Yes. Happiness puts these walls around her, enslaves her. Freedom is not completely upsetting, but gives her the confidence of losing herself, be it to insaniy or happiness."
"What now?"
"We need to do something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Get her freedom back."
