My dear imaginary friend,
It’s kind of complicated, but I have forgotten most of the things. I don’t remember what is a deep felt emotion anymore. Strange as it may sound, but I was capable of it when I was much younger. Now I don’t know…I don’t feel it anymore. I don’t even know if this is profound loss.
The feelings that were everything became the very cause of my ruin. Hopes were shattered, cause hopes were false. Leaves were fallen, as it was the season. Flowers faded away just like that, cause time was flowing like water. Time that knows the greatness of love has no time to wait for love. Not just slumber refused to touch my eyelids, but even tears refuse to visit me now.
Come to think of it, I wasn’t even mutilated in the real sense of the word. My heart was taken out a couple of times with the help of a sharp object & stabbed till it stopped beating. That heartbeat was a sin, according to man-made rules.
Once my heart was singed & it became a joke for a lifetime; everyone was jeering at it. Another time it was shredded to pieces & those pieces were thrown in different places. I couldn’t gather the pieces of my heart. It didn’t break my heart, cause I wasn’t left with one. You also need one to shed tears. Although I could see, but I was blind.
I don’t have that heart…that part of me was killed long before I woke up. It was killed so that it may never kindle again. That was my crime. My judges didn’t acquit my heart…they asked me to go without it. No, I don’t call it murder. I never died. I live, but I know how I live. I breathe, so to speak.
You can’t prove it as murder. We don’t have any evidence against the slayers. They were my judges. They thought they were right. After all, the world had sanctioned them.
I thought love was beautiful. I also thought it was sacred. In fact, I thought love was as beautiful as God. It wasn’t what I thought. Or do I even know it now? The memories are all tainted, my friend. Memories that ought to be better than hopes are now as cruel as hell.
You say you are in love. You have been in love before. You have touched it. Naturally you know what I’m talking about. These words aren’t meaningless. It’s another thing these words are put down on a piece of paper after their demise. I didn’t know the real meaning when these words were alive. How could I?
Slayers are never kind. They make sure that part of you dies. And if it doesn’t die the 1st time, it surely does sooner or later. All slayers form a unique brotherhood. A heart that truly loves is slain no matter what. There is no escape. It’s not a huge price or a deep loss. It’s not even profound grief. It’s life & life happened to me.I died a number of times before I woke up & now I can’t shut my eyes. And you don’t want to know what it’s like.
Eternally yours,
The Living Corpse
Nadira Rahman
It’s kind of complicated, but I have forgotten most of the things. I don’t remember what is a deep felt emotion anymore. Strange as it may sound, but I was capable of it when I was much younger. Now I don’t know…I don’t feel it anymore. I don’t even know if this is profound loss.
The feelings that were everything became the very cause of my ruin. Hopes were shattered, cause hopes were false. Leaves were fallen, as it was the season. Flowers faded away just like that, cause time was flowing like water. Time that knows the greatness of love has no time to wait for love. Not just slumber refused to touch my eyelids, but even tears refuse to visit me now.
Come to think of it, I wasn’t even mutilated in the real sense of the word. My heart was taken out a couple of times with the help of a sharp object & stabbed till it stopped beating. That heartbeat was a sin, according to man-made rules.
Once my heart was singed & it became a joke for a lifetime; everyone was jeering at it. Another time it was shredded to pieces & those pieces were thrown in different places. I couldn’t gather the pieces of my heart. It didn’t break my heart, cause I wasn’t left with one. You also need one to shed tears. Although I could see, but I was blind.
I don’t have that heart…that part of me was killed long before I woke up. It was killed so that it may never kindle again. That was my crime. My judges didn’t acquit my heart…they asked me to go without it. No, I don’t call it murder. I never died. I live, but I know how I live. I breathe, so to speak.
You can’t prove it as murder. We don’t have any evidence against the slayers. They were my judges. They thought they were right. After all, the world had sanctioned them.
I thought love was beautiful. I also thought it was sacred. In fact, I thought love was as beautiful as God. It wasn’t what I thought. Or do I even know it now? The memories are all tainted, my friend. Memories that ought to be better than hopes are now as cruel as hell.
You say you are in love. You have been in love before. You have touched it. Naturally you know what I’m talking about. These words aren’t meaningless. It’s another thing these words are put down on a piece of paper after their demise. I didn’t know the real meaning when these words were alive. How could I?
Slayers are never kind. They make sure that part of you dies. And if it doesn’t die the 1st time, it surely does sooner or later. All slayers form a unique brotherhood. A heart that truly loves is slain no matter what. There is no escape. It’s not a huge price or a deep loss. It’s not even profound grief. It’s life & life happened to me.I died a number of times before I woke up & now I can’t shut my eyes. And you don’t want to know what it’s like.
Eternally yours,
The Living Corpse
Nadira Rahman
