Dear Boy,

Dear Boy,
I wrote the same letter to you a year ago, but things have changed since then and I believe so have I. My writing has gotten darker and so have I. No, I did not get tanned.
So, I am writing this again, with the hope that when you do read this, it will help you out with understanding me, which I don’t believe is entirely possible, for I don’t know who I am myself.
Moving on to happier things (like that’s possible), I still do not like Roger Federer and Chelsea. And I will still beat you at tennis and football. I might resort to “untraditonal” tactics, maybe. And yes, I know the offside rule, maybe better than you!
I still love Rafael Nadal, and that love has grown, to the point where, I no longer I can handle his defeats. As for Michael Phelps, you do realize that the bong was mine !
For when we do meet, I won’t be the one in the mini, nor the one in the tight jeans in the centre of a huge gathering, mostly, I’ll be in my boy shorts, sitting under a tree, reading a book, on travel. Or I’ll probably be the one, wearing my old school jersey, a huge beer mug in my hand, screaming at Rooney to finally score on the field. Or the one, with acting loony and singing at the Carnival, mostly it’ll be ‘Leaving on a jet place” but you never know. Or maybe I’ll just clash into you, during one of my clumsy moments.
I am not saying it’ll be magical, because it most certainly won’t, but it’ll be something.
And like you will found out, I am not the coolest person to be around, I am the most coolest person. And yes, I want gifts.
For now that’s it, better get started on the gifts though.
Love (hopefully),
Some girl.

Finally.

Her sunken eyes speak a thousand words, even those are not enough. Her hollow cheeks are tear-ridden. Her head now perpetually bowed down, refusing to look into anyone’s eyes as walks towards the forest. Her gait, slow, careful, calculated, her footsteps heavy, making inevitable crunching sounds against the dried twigs.
She walks past them, they don’t notice as she camouflages into the trees. She is alone, atlast. Their stares won’t haunt her anymore.
She glances back and smirks to herself. They are all so oblivious.
She climbs up the slope, till the horizon greets her. I’ve been waiting, he says. He beckons her, she takes a step toward him, he smiles, she obliges, and runs.
She’s falling. She can feel the wind, she can hear it, whispering in her ears, for she is one with it now.
She hits something, something engulfs her, bubbles, movement, soft cushions. Then she no longer feels anything.
Finally.

Sand.

Yesterday
We walk hand in hand, glancing at the sunset, our eyes, leaving each other for only that moment. I want you to hold me forever. Together we belong.

Today
The sunset is all that matters. As I look back, our imprints on the sand bother me. For they are succeeded by a single pair of slow, soft ones.

Tomorrow
I want the waves to wash them away. All of them. For then maybe, we will cease to exist.

This is something I've been thinking of since a while now.

A while ago,
Need- Food
Drive- Basic Instinct to survive.

Now,
Necessity- Food
Need- Money
Drive- Greed.

We're both grown up. We have what we want but there's still something missing. All of our material needs have been satisfied. There is nothing more to ask for.
Is that when you will suddenly look at me and see what I've been seeing you as for years?
Do I have to wait for that out of the blue moment, when those tinted glasses fall off and you realise what has been in front of you all the time?
Will I still be there? Will I still be waiting? Should I still be waiting?
Would a maiden from another world take your breath away, just before the glasses fall off?
Do I wait for the future that might never be mine?

Broken resolve.

You tell me you need me,
I smile, and melt inside.

You tell me you miss me,
and the flowers blossom.

You tell me you want me,
and resolve slowly crumbles.

You tell me I'm a good friend,
and suddenly the birds are singing.

You tell me nothing at all,
and that flower droops a little.

You keep silent,
and it stoops further.

Don't let it wilt away.

The End of an Era.

When I call it an era, it is because it seems like that. I haven't felt like that for anyone in a long time, well to be precise almost 4 years now. And hence it did feel like an era. A good one too.
But everything ends. The closer you get to those enticing flames, the more hotter they get. But it is only when you touch it do you realise how hot it actually is. And for 1 second it doesn't really hurt, if you take your hand away before that, you won't feel a thing, if you keep it there longer, you get burned.
And I did get burned.
But that doesn't mean, I don't like fire, it helps us, keeps us warm and teaches us how dangerous it can be.
I won't say, I didn't learn anything from you, I won't say I didn't get closer to myself, I won't say I didn't love you, because I did. And I don't regret it.
You were with me when I needed someone the most, I would like to believe I was the same to you but I wasn't. My inner turmoil never did come to the surface.
But right now, I am ready, I am ready to walk away, finally. There's a long way ahead, before the moon comes into sight, but I'll get there. Once I do, I might return and retrace my steps, but for now, the road is long and there's no looking back.