The Last Nights

I looked at my self. So pale. So white. So beautiful. The powdered face. The reddened cheeks. The lustful lips. Oh, why couldn’t I do it that well before? Perhaps everything is meant for a certain time. And the white dress? Enigmatic! I am in love with me. Or was I? Had I ever loved myself? Wasn’t the desire to be loved for me to love my self?

People I had known once came by and looked at me. They just walked by. Can’t blame them, they never saw me more than twice. But then came my old colleagues, college mates, school mates…. Some were emotional, some were stone faced, and some were just….them.

Then followed the besties. I hadn’t seen them in a long time. The concubine I hid myself was still evident, and the distance thus created had created a difficulty for them. They may have perhaps cared for me, or maybe they never did. Does it even matter anymore?

The parents and siblings came in the end, who hugged me and cried. Their loss on a living asset, a back-up plan, insurance, investment property…. Was I ever their child? Or have they failed in making me realize they loved me?

It didn’t matter. The cut wrists, the blue-coloured neck, the swollen eyes. It was three strikes that went successful. And now I see my self in a relaxing state. That was all I wanted….peace ad no more tensions. Just my self with me. This was perfect. I was having me-time with my self.

I might have wished for parents to ask me to take a break, but they never saw me, only the money I made. I might have wished for my friends to tell me that I am not alone, but they only saw a clown. I might have wished that I had someone to remind me that failures are natural, and even if I have to fight the whole world, they will be there to remind me that I can do it.

May be they had it in their minds. May be they didn’t. But once you ‘accept’ that you are alone, you start pushing people away. You try to find solace on your own for you start making yourself believe that you have only you. And when you stumble more, you realize that everything around you except you had you. So you will move to the last, resort. It might be stupid for you. I might never have had any problems worth doing it. But at my state, it was a blissful choice.

After all, I wanted to know who would come to see me when I did so. And here you are…

Darn, the alarm. It was a beautiful dream. She wakes up and looks around. One more day of chores, daily works, failed attempts and lonely slumbers. OK, get off the bed now!

As she brushes her teeth, she looks at the mirror, and sees her self’s tired lonely eyes. They might have been in a pool of tears the previous night, may be cause of a movie she watched, or a book she read, or because of the absence of words that didn’t pour into the screen as she wanted even after two hours.

She gets dressed, and goes to her office. Another day goes by as another second. In between she eats, works, eats, laughs, eats and comes back. Routine takes up the actual joys of life.

She watches the final episode of the show, and tries to write. Instead, she manages to write more words into the written letter she had prepared three months ago. She then looks at the calendar. Tomorrow is Wednesday. Gotta do it on Friday. Everyone will be free on Saturday and Sunday. They will be able to come then.

I will be noticed. I will have many people around me. They will tell others how important I actually was.

I am going to sleep well tonight as well.

As she lies on the cot and closes her eyes, she simply smiles, not wishing to wake up for another day of routine.

It’s Friday in three days.