The shivering was so real. After a long time she felt things falling apart . Things known and unknown , things complete and screaming to be complete. Emptiness has its own contentment at times, but this was devastating. She sat in the middle of the house, wondering what was real and what was unreal . How will she face and accept , that whatever she thought all her life to be real , ends up to be a whim. A tale of a cruel reality ? Or that of a mislead heart ? No matter what it was , but for now , she certainly wanted nothing against her notions. She cried. Silently , loudly , mutely . In every possible way . Cried more to be forgiven for what she did not do, cried silently of the guilt , of having ignored somethings important. Such relative importance, and such dependent importance . She wished she had never paid heed to the inhibitions. She wished there was a replay button , she would resume and fight the change back.
But then the rage made her cry more. Loving a thing for the last time isn't easy, when you have loved it since forever. Such a worst thing to happen to some one. Loosing a passion.
The fight of mute tears and an inspiring self continued. Till she decided to still go with her practical way.
Easily convincing her tears, that they did no good to her. She retreated to her normal self, one unacceptable step.
She needs a hint from the destiny , only then will she revolt.
A news made her sad. Someone else was the chosen one in her place. Not fair? When it is ? when will it be?
She will tear away the newspaper, and erase the fact out of her heart. But what about something that runs in the veins ? How do you stop that ?
She decided to close her diary and sleep. Sleep till the morning gets better or till the tears die .
Such a murderer she is.