Aida Zabidi
He watched her cry herself to sleep, night after night.

Somehow they would always end up in a fight, no matter how much he tried to prevent it, but their relationship was so convoluted, so complicated, and sometimes it seemed like they were going round in circles playing the blame game. She would scream at him and her words were always so sharp, but there was always that ring of truth, and he would lash out in his defence, pretending that she hadn't hurt him, but his heart bled.

It always did. She knew.

His heart constricted watching her.

She would never let him touch her, comfort her, those nights after their fights, and she always seemed so fragile, like his touch would push her over the edge. He always ached to hold her close, to let his heartbeat tell her how much he was sorry, to quiet her noisy sobs.

She was cruel like that.

And so he sat, bathed in the moonlight glow, helpless to help the love of his life as she self destructed.
She was fragile and unstable and flawed. And somehow that made her all the more beautiful to him.

3 Responses

  1. Anonymous Says:

    Be careful about reading too much emotional novel. You may be reading your biography by delusion.

    Strange as it may seem, happy novel can liken to an apple does keeps the doctor away right ? As the famous saying goes .....

    Watch your thoughts, for they become words.
    Watch your words, for they become actions.
    Watch your actions, for they become habits.
    Watch your habits, for they become character.
    Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.

  2. Self-destructive messed up girls always have that appeal. You can't stand her but you can't leave her either.

    Of course, the ending is almost always a self-fulfilling prophecy of tragedy.

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