She hesitated for a second before clicking on his profile, unsure what she might be expecting after all the talk and controversy that had surrounded them.
The photo flashed up first, seemingly innocuous, a photo of him and the other girl together, caught unaware, him gazing at her as she laughed at some unknown, unheard joke.
Her entire world seemed to shrink down to the story of the random photo, to the story that the picture seemed to tell. They seemed happy together, and taken out of context, it was one of those photos that seemed to be worth a thousand words, the type of photo where entire stories could be built on.
She wondered if they really were as happy together as the photo seemed to portray, wondered if he was telling her the words that she herself used to hear, if they were more than friends and a hundred other if's, what's and but's that she couldn't help imagining.
She clenched her fists and choked down the initial wave of anger.
It was difficult letting go, especially when she still had to fight the familiar urge to call him and hear his voice.
It was too easy to fall back into their familiar routines, when he called to speak to her, or when they met online over Messenger, so easy to lapse into that easy familiarity and pretend that nothing had changed between them, skirting the unspoken questions that she was too afraid to ask - too afraid to find out the answers to.
It was all too complicated, and her heart couldn't stop aching at the uncertainty of it all.
Things had changed between them, and she wasn't exactly sure how much.
"We're still close," he had said, with that smile in his voice, and she wanted to scream and shout, and tell him that she felt the separation already, that she knew that things would never be the same again, that it was not her, it was him that would gradually change and become more distant.
Her head spun.
She just wanted things to go back the way they were.
"Damn you, fickle heart."
She unpinned her heart from her sleeve and folded it neatly away, as she had done so many times in the past and wondered if there would come a time when she would no longer wear her emotions so openly, and start guarding her words.
"Perhaps when I am older and wiser," she smiled to herself wearily. Then she laughed, "Or perhaps when pigs fly."
She unpinned her heart from her sleeve and folded it neatly away, as she had done so many times in the past and wondered if there would come a time when she would no longer wear her emotions so openly, and start guarding her words.
ReplyDelete"Perhaps when I am older and wiser," she smiled to herself wearily. Then she laughed, "Or perhaps when pigs fly."
I 'feel' this ;')
When there are too many IFs and BUTs to think of, I'd prefer to shutdown my system by taking a nap for awhile (or for hours, LOL). It's like rebooting, to freshen up your mind. And then, it's time to untangle those tangled thoughts :)
I should clarify this isn't about me. :)
ReplyDeleteBut you're absolutely right, sometimes all you need to do is reboot.
perhaps faithfulness.. perhaps pigs should file a flight plan..
ReplyDeleteoh wow. was reading this while faizs' blog was playing ne mes qui te pas. sigh. i suddenly feel sad.
ReplyDeleteI'd take that perhaps when pigs fly.
ReplyDelete"Perhaps when I am older and wiser," she smiled to herself wearily. Then she laughed, "Or perhaps when pigs fly."
ReplyDeletethe feeling in this story comes naturally while reading it. this is a true story of many women who undergo the phase of separation. i've experienced this. hm. i think so.
Thanks guys, for the feedback! This might touch a chord with some people, and even though it's not about me, it is inspired from things that I've felt and experienced.
ReplyDeletehi aida,
ReplyDeletenice to read all your posts. i couldnt even write this well. haha
i love this one specifically.
T_T