A known stranger

The stubborn clouds finally decided to give way to the blazing Sun. It seemed like a good day to take Max for a walk. Besides, we had to fetch his collar too.

It had been two days since we met but it already seemed like a decade had passed by. Like it or not, it wasn't because of how obedient and nice Max was to me. It was something else. And I figured it out or myself just today.

I was shuffling down the lake and tightly holding onto Max's leash.

You annoy me sometimes.

I know. I'm a cruel dog owner. But it's not my fault, I was so frustrated. It was hers. And I saw her once again, pass by. Our gazes met for a while and then she looked away and straight ahead, acting all oblivious to my existence. She kept hiding and I kept piercing my stare through her eyes. I wanted something. Anything. Guilt. Fear. Pity. Anything.

What are you thinking Amelia? What have I done?

I knew what was zooming through those coils in her mind: It wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything.

Because I knew just how stubborn she was to admit anything. And here I was, crying over the friend I knew who had disappeared. The friend who let miles come between us without letting me know. It was not going to make a difference to her. 

But here's the thing: I was too fond of her. Too attached to leave the person who had known every inch of me, known who I was, who I'd been and who i was hoping to become, yet was a normal stranger walking past by.

Holding on to the memories

The text messages. The pictures. The videos. Everything has a painful link to my history. Especially that last voice message she sent to me.

I'm on my way honey. I'll be there in no time.

My impatience killed her, apparently. I counted the number of times I called my mother after the police handed me her phone. And the funny thing is, she never missed any of my calls. She kept driving and she kept talking until...the worst happened. 

And now when I look back, time has seemed to unwind like a string and I am there, still holding on to that one spot: 21st of December, the night my mother died.

For heaven's sake, move on! 

These words would often come at me. Mostly from my father. It was quite clear he had left the past where it was, considering the fact he married her colleague a few months back. And he seems very happy about it. 

My stepmother, whom he refers to as my 'new mom' is quite a woman: nice and sympathetic. But that doesn't make up for the hollowness deep inside me. I lost the person who'd brought me to this world and nobody like her exists anymore. The thought stabs me.

A part of her is there with me, though. That too, in her memories.

And that's what keeps me from moving on...because I want to live with what's left of her. And that's all in the past,not in the present...unfortunately.

Proving your worth

I pressed ‘send’ for the fifteenth time as I headed for the supermarket. It had been days since we talked. He said he would leave for a while and call me when he reached. He never called back and I never minded.

Must’ve been tired after such a long flight. That’s what I thought…and I wished a moment after entering through the sliding doors of the grocery, that that had been the case.

The shop was crowded as usual, but the face was hard to be overlooked…especially by an old friend of his. Like me. It was so bright, so happy. Only, with someone else. I felt a burning sensation in my heart and pressed ‘dial’ as his face stretched out on the screen of my phone.

Calling…

I heard the ringing sound just a couple of metres away. I watched him and as he pulled the cell phone out of his pocket, sighed in exasperation and continued with his happy chatter, every move of his stabbed my insides.

I cried the whole night, especially after hearing the daily gossip about how he had cheated on me. And that was when I heard the phone’s merry jingle: a text message.

Hey. Sorry I was busy with all the work at my aunt’s. You know how it is right? You wanna talk?

My thumb moved towards the big green box stating ‘reply’. And then I finally decided.

I wasn’t worthless. Only, he didn’t know my worth. And to prove it to him, all I had to do was simply walk away.

I wiped away my tears and swiftly pressed delete. I made a hard choice. But the right one, indeed.

Your value: Story of a corpse's soul

Black gowns. White roses. Dark umbrellas soaked in the pattering rain. I’d always watched this in movies. But in real life? That too on my funeral. I wanted to laugh so hard. But then again, I didn’t want to ruin the moment and scare all the people away. Or maybe I was inaudible to them.

Random snippets of the life I’d lived with a body popped up as I saw each and every familiar face out there. Courtney, my best friend. Edmund, the fattest guy at school. I even noticed Paul. We hardly ever got around talking. I really wanted to though. I used to like him. And there he was, sniffing and sobbing. He looked like a kid doing that: completely the opposite of what he used to be at school.

I was enjoying this. Being the center of attention, I mean. But somehow it just didn’t feel right. I felt guilty for making them go through so much. Spend their lives living in sorrow because of me. But it wasn’t my fault now was it? Cancer is never your fault unless you eat too much ketchup and I hate that sauce.

So, forcing that load off my shoulder, I watched as people placed their roses in front of my photograph and patted on each other’s shoulders. They wanted me with them. They missed me. Who knew it was just a temporary feeling. It was there at the back of my mind. I just didn’t feel the need to bring it into consideration...

It’s been one week and I haven’t heard anything more than the sound of the howling day breeze and of the hooting owls at night. And now the truth has finally dawned upon me. The world doesn’t start with you. It doesn't end with you. If you die, others move on. Not the day you die. The next day. Or the next week maybe. But they eventually do.

The sun doesn’t keep itself from rising; the flowers don’t fail to bloom. Everything continues like before. Because then, you are nothing more than just an ordinary pile of dust and bones.

Regretting forgiving

I saw her laughing hysterically on the running escalators of that overly crowded shopping mall. Everything seemed so...happy. Colourful. Only...I was that black dot in the middle.

Why did it still hurt? The last time we'd talked she'd asked for forgiveness. She was literally on her knees with her hands clasped before me. I knew she was sorry. Or at least...I thought so.

And so I said the word and left, without turning to look back as she loudly thanked me. She deserved it. I could see that thirst for relief in her deep blue eyes...for freedom. And I was more than happy to help.

And there she was now, whispering to someone. They were both looking at me. It was as if I could feel the stabs of their sharp stares. I knew what she was narrating to her friend: how she had revealed her false self to me, how she had pretended to love me, to be there at all times. Who knew it was all a little play to win a pointless bet.

"Fool him, leave him and ask for forgiveness," three tasks, three hundred dollars. And obviously, a heart of her victim.

Seeing her there, ignited that fire in me. I knew she hadn't changed a bit. And that was the time when I regretted our last conversation...regretted forgiving her...

A Positive Note to Oneself

You’re worthless. You’re hurt. You’ve been loathed more than anything.

Look around. What do you see in this suffocating throng?

"Faces," you say, "Loads of them."

Happy. Sad. Angry. Blank. But why do you care? They’re all faces. That’s all you need to know.

Now think about them. What do they see? Faces, apparently. Including yours. You are nothing more than just another ordinary person in the crowd. But what do they know. They are blind to the scars you’re wearing. Just like you are to theirs.

No one knows who’s been stabbed how many times. That’s the thing. We all are unaware. But think about it. You may be the worst one out there. But what you’ve dealt with may be a joke to others.

It all depends on where your train of thoughts carries you.

And then there come two turns in the middle which change everything and the selection divides the crowd into two groups:optimists and pessimists. And that’s how we come up to the answer: it’s all a game of thoughts and you are just another passenger.

But once you outrun that speeding train of thoughts, once you manage to take the driver’s seat, and you ask yourself, “What did I do?” your mind answers, “You just made a mistake because you are a human and like every other human, you learned. Only, with the least scars possible. Only in a much less terrible way than many others out there.”

Be thankful for that.

Being pitied for

The change wasn’t too much. But it was there. And could not be too easily overlooked by me or anyone in my shoes. And by that I mean anyone. I over watered my neighbors’ lawn for the fifth time since I started. Third time after the accident.

The first two times, it was a mistake I’d been scolded for. First by the owner-a 40 year old man who looked too old for his age-and then by my parents because he’d probably called them. The third time, it was a mistake. I’d forced myself to face him and tell him I wasn’t alright so I wasn’t going to do the job no matter how much he stopped me.

But what he said left me wide eyed...in fact, it led me to having second thoughts about leaving.

It’s okay son. We all make mistakes. Besides, it’s quite hot already. It’ll dry up in no time.

I didn’t know what had gotten into him and to test his newly born self-control, I changed my plans and transformed the lawn into a swimming pool once more.

Only to meet the same but surprisingly gently response. 

Today, I tried it again. And this time, the response was somewhat different, somewhat…terrible. The kind that stabs you. He didn’t ‘say’ anything different though. There was just something I saw in his eyes. The sadness in them or...let’s put it this way. Pity for the disability of his 18 year old neighbor. Quite a young age for not being able to walk again, now isn't it?

I didn’t say a word. Just went home quietly. This was the first time I felt like not doing anything wrong. In fact, not even seeing anyone again. Because instead of getting scolded, I would always get reminded of the fact that I’m stuck up in a wheelchair with all those stares and smiles: something I'm sick of.

Faking the happiness

I breathed deeply and slowly, counting to ten.

You are one brave girl. Don’t ruin her day please. You don’t want to grab unwanted attention, now do you?

I plastered a fake smile to my face and rung the bell. It was already nine. I was late. But at least I’d managed to cry my anger out. Don’t know what I was angry at though. I wasn’t jealous for sure. But I had been boiling from the inside since the day she told me. She asked me if I was okay once. She played her part. And I said I was. What else could I have said?

Oh, I’m sorry but I’m not happy at all because you just got a job while you were already a lousy, millionaire and I’m hard working who deserved the job more than you and my poor parents forced me to move out and I'm broke so no. I’m not happy at all because I’m too selfish to do that. I'm sorry.

I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. So as she entered. I hugged her real tight and while she did I blinked my eyes a thousand times to keep the hanging tears from falling. I just hope she didn’t hear me sniffing. I wanted to control myself but that was the only thing that seemed out of control. That and my drowning luck.

So I did the best I could.

“Hey. Congratulations! I’m so happy for you. And you did deserve one now didn’t you?” I managed to say in my most squeaky I’m-so-excited voice as she led me to the party in the living room.

I knew I was broken but I had to fix myself for the sake of her best moments. Even if temporarily.

And what was even more heart breaking...she didn't look at me closely enough...

The guilt for being better

I spent the whole night staring at nothing outside the open window. But wait. I was supposed to be celebrating. I could hear the blare of loud music in the living room. Everyone was waiting for me. And here I was, sitting in the corner of a locked up, pitch-dark room. I wanted to go. But my mind wouldn't permit me to. Yes. The mind. It's funny how the heart wasn't responsible at that time. It's because I remembered. I knew that look on her face.

We'd been best friends since we joined college and after that, continued to be the best colleagues. Until...

"Hey, I heard you just got promoted. You must've worked hard. I wish I could be like you." he patted me on the shoulder as i laughed nervously.

And that's when i turned around to see the fallen look on her face. She smiled at me when our gazes met and walked away. I knew her long enough to detect the fakeness in her smile. I didn't know whether to talk to her about this. I knew she would think i was being boastful. And if i didn't, she'd stay that way. So I decided to go with the flow. And that was where it took me: to a room in a house where everyone I knew was except for my only best friend...and that is why, I hated being better than her. I didn't want to be and it wasn't my fault. I had the choice of kicking  her out of my life but then again, I was too selfless to do that.

For the first time, I felt guilty for being better...