Wait. What did you just say? I couldn’t hear you properly. What? You love me? Oh. No. No. No. This is not possible. Wait, please. Before you draw any conclusion regarding your feelings for me, I want you to listen. Okay?
Just stay quiet for some time and listen to what I have to say.
I don’t know where to begin from. The first time I got harassed? Or the day when I was first accused of an act I wasn’t even aware of? Should I begin from the first time I was mentally tortured? Or the first day when I actually realized what betrayal was?
I really don’t know. I want you to understand just one thing, I am scarred. And that is to an extent that maybe a lifetime will fall short to heal them.
What not did I go through?
Brutal attempt to murder.
A hand with blade marks all over.
Frequent suicide attempts.
I have been used, broken, torn apart at the seems. I have tried to mend myself several times but failed.
I have gathered my broken pieces and tried to stick them back together, in every way possible, to no avail. I have cried for nights, without expecting my suffering to end.
I have laughed, and laughed, only to end up in tears later. What do you expect out of a shattered soul, whose pieces are even smaller than the tiniest particle existing?
Yes, I have changed. And this change is tremendous. You wouldn’t recognize this new me if you happened to know me earlier. And now, whatever is left of me is just the crumbles of a bread, which usually goes unnoticed while eating. Why not leave them as they are? They cannot be picked up and made into the bread it once was.
Time has changed me. I have become apprehensive. That girl who used to take decisions on impulse has now become thoughtful. Maybe the child within me hasn’t died yet, but it is too scared to come of the closet. I know what being lost is, and so I tread carefully, watching every move. I don’t know if I am mature now or was before. All I know is that I am a better person now. This is what I think of myself.
Now what? Do you still want to see the real me? Will you be able to handle the sight of those wounds? Will you be able to bear the fact that you can never be my first love? Will you be able to stand next to me and defend me unconditionally and in every situation even when you know that I am wrong? Will you be able to understand my words with me not literally speaking them but with a mere blink of an eye?
Will you stand in the rain and cry with me when I am unable to hold myself together? Can you stay for a lifetime and not let the fire in me get dim ever again?
Discuss these questions with yourself and make your choice. If you want to jump in the well on your own, I won’t stop you from doing so. That is all I wanted to say.
I am fire,
If you want to be the squire,
Feel the pain through my skin.
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