The Involuntary

She stares outside her window looking at the pouring rain and counting every second that passes her by. She knows that this will only get her down, and yet, she basks under the heavy weight of reliving the past--- the past that has been her mind's playground where she can freely run with memories of him.

Her heart throbs in pain, her breathing becomes laborious, and her hands begin to tremble at the anguish of wanting to hold him, but can't.

Yet, she savors this suffering.

Because it is only the ache in her heart that can validate that what they had was real. Not now, but at some point, it had been real.

It had not been a few seasons ago when she would wake up to his smile and the gentle touch of his hand on her face, making her feel precious and loved. She would look forward to every daylight as this would bring a new moment for her to relish the comfortable feeling of him beside her. She would longingly kiss his lips and whisper a line from a song they both love, as music had been their secret code to express how they feel. His breath, her promise, the lingering embrace. She thought these would last forever.

Until one day, she woke up and it was all gone.

Gone.

Now, she only wakes up as an involuntary motion that happens to her every single day. She walks not to go anywhere but because she can no longer bear lying at that crumpled bed he used to sleep on, or bear sitting at that chair where he used to wait as she takes her time getting dressed. Everything is involuntary... sleeping, rising, crying, breathing. She was not living. She was merely existing.

She fears not of growing old alone and unwanted. She fears of growing old without him.

No. She was not unloved. She could have had a chance to be with someone. And yet, it doesn't matter to her anymore. Because what good would that be if that someone is not him?

How can she have any shot at happiness?

She can't and she won't.

Because when she gave her heart fully to him, she did not really get it back.

And now she's just an empty piece of shell.. broken and alone.

She suffers the worst kind of loneliness because the path of solitude has been paved by her own hands all along.


Now, that is voluntary.



(video from: www.youtube.com)

*** This is purely the work of the creative mind of the author which may or may not be based on real life. Paduds!