Rough Draft

Sitting alone in room. By chance. It makes me happy! Being a slave of my own solitude. These are the very few moments I live as myself. Otherwise uh.... I'm expert in pretending...

I am not too sure!! Opened my laptop. I love the sound my fingers make on these keyboards. Beat of the heart and the *thug thug* on keyboard makes it a par superior song than any. I fear writing with inky pens on lucent white papers. My tears may wipe down my life in them. I don’t want that to happen. That's why I like the concept of typing. I bet on my tear, dare you wipe this out!

And to make it a perfect solitude, this is what I on the botton wanted. It was raining cats & dogs. Heaven pour down under. The rains of night are out of the ordinary. Along with the rejuvenation, it brings a lot of doting memories. Just closed my eyes in complete serene till a thunderbolt clout my ears. Loud roared the dreadful thunder. Under this window in stormy weather, reminds me of a night which was very much analogous to this one.

Have you ever had to talk to the person you loved most...tell them it's gonna be all right, when you know it's not? “Don't worry I'm always yours – touch wood” Even though she knew the end was closer; these were the words she rendered in my ears.

“Don’t worry my eyes only see you everywhere even if they are closed... – touch wood. You know, you are the best thing God has done to me ever in my life – touch wood!!!”

She continued. Holding my mouth with her hands not allowing me to utter anything.

“Don’t say that we are not meant for each other. It is just that we are not meant for anyone else. I don’t think I need to worry being happy as long as you are there with me. You are my dream. Without you there is no existence for me. Parting away from you is my death – touchhh…woo…”

She couldn't complete her much trusty omen, intended to reverse any bad luck that might come our way. She wept. I didn't stop her. She exploded.

First time in her I saw an incensed face of love. I saw all the hidden expressions of love that Wordsworth, Coleridge, Blake, Shelley, and Keats has immortalized.

I hold her closer. I wished to bring a little tranquil to her then effervescent mind.

I said “Oh dear, between us there is no you & me. Is there anything called your death & my death. It’s all ours. Even in death we will be together…”

The soft susurrus of conversation over her ears then was like this pouring rain outside my window tonight. I could calm down her tempest by those words.

“I will hear you even I have gone away from you…” That was her promise.

‘Perhaps tonight she is hearing me. May be this rain is propelled by her to calm down the storm in me…’ I am hoping.

Lff called a trump. I lost. I often question: Suppose we could begin life over again, knowing what we were doing? Suppose we could use one life, already ended, as a sort of rough draft for another??? *Sigh*