Just something i once started working on, when i was a writer…

Sitting next to a window with rain pouring inside, i smoked my fourth cigarette of the day because i didn’t know what else to do. Weather man on the radio had predicted a thunderstorm but then again i had no intention of going out, not now, not ever. I was born in a mansion but this room apartment made me feel richer than i ever was in that house of 20 rooms.

The sudden flash of lightening blinded me for a second and i looked back wondering if i should close the window, but she was asleep like a baby, unaware of the storm outside. Her face brought a smile to my face and i felt tears streaming out. I threw my cigarette, closed the window and walked up to the bed and closed the bed side light. I lied there next to her looking at her tired pale face, she looked exhausted. I knew it was not going to be like this forever, i knew one fine day i won’t get to be around her but i didn’t know what to do.

I never talked about it with anyone but her; she would often tell me how i should move on with life. And every time she spoke, it didn’t felt that bad. She would say,

“All you have to do is live”

“i am living” i would reply

“But not like this, you have to follow your dreams and fall in love”

And i would slowly add “Again” to her sentence with a cracking voice which would make her cry.

Every night i would close my eyes wondering if tonight’s the night, every morning i would wake up crying because i still had her. Joy can be more painful sometimes, which is hard to understand.

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