Hello From The Other Side

The song, as you might have known or heard, is a huge hit. Despite the painful memory it seems to have brought back, I've been listening to it, just like, probably, you and others out there. It's been the hundredth time already. It's melodious while at the same time stabbing too, for which reason I dislike, for a short moment, the crew who's made this song happen. It hurts, you know. The wound has just got better a bit and now it is triggered once again. I've tried to suppress the fought-back pain. It ain't easy. 

I listen to it and try to indulge, calmly, in its sublime-ty. Silence won't just work. The meaning is so strong that I feel shaken, most of the times, as the tune drags on. Especially at nighttime when I try to sleep. In a way, it's serenading. In another way, when the words shoot through, from my ears to my head, my chest pounds; chokingly. It's true. It's just too strong to resist. So powerful. Why are you back? I know you listen to that too. I still check up on Facebook. I've seen that. So that one specific night when, just like other days, darkness ruled the world, I couldn't stand the song as I listened to it. Every words stabbed through my chest and throbbed to my blood. I felt pain once again after all these years I've been trying to get over it, moving on. Why would you come back? Why would you leave in the first place? There were voices all over, in my head. I couldn't sleep. The voices were too strong and loud. It ain't a fantasy. It's bombarding. It almost exploded, I swear. It hurt. I wanted an answer, a satisfying one. I, then, realized I didn't even stand a chance in the first place. I ain't even in the game. There are too many things I want to ask. I want to know; answered. It's just childish wants, after all.  

Chakriya’s Catch-up, Clarifying, Apologizing Letter To Veasna

Veasna,

I have been trying to reason out my heart to write to you. Every time, I fell fragile despite all the first conscious determination; my hand would, first, find optimism and then dumbness yet my head would not hold along any righteous courage to write to you. Pissing you off then keeps haunting me. It won’t just fade away. Naturally, I haven't stopped feeling bad about that dejected ordeal which befall on you and which I chose to execute. 

I know I’m now in no virtuous position to write to clarify things out for you: why I jilted you so harshly back then? Things that day were clear enough: we met, I talked, used the unexpected L-word towards you and left, and you were left doubting and appallingly disappointed, almost believing you were that L-word.

Why, yet, do I still write you this letter? Maybe I am still thinking about that event. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not thinking of jilting you again; it hurt me too seeing you flinching after I harangued you. Maybe I shouldn't have brutally pierced your little gentleman’s heart. Whatever reason, I guess, doesn't matter now to you. You don’t care, right?  

An L-word Promise That Motivates.....

It is the damn word all yearn to have, especially those newly afoot into that little thing. 

It was 2011. May, 27, the starting point. No exact time recorded! 

“I think it will be time for you to say that to me, honey.”

“Not yet,” comes a reply, “We’ll see and hear. We just start, hey!" 

"But? Um, I have done this a lot to prove my..." to which a reply cut through: C'mon! It will be time, just like you say; not now, though. I do want to but, um......

"Promise me, okay? I'll get to you again on New Year's eve when we are going to hold hands, walking under the lighted breezy street. Then, you will have to go with the reality: you and I, forever." 

Riya, now a bit touched, okayed, smilingly.