her confession

I've made a lot of mistakes.....mistakes which I should regret ever doing and mistakes which dominate my mind the whole time..except....that I don't regret doing them. Yes, there's this pit of guilt housing at the back of my mind, taking me to the edge of my satisfaction. And I stand on that edge every time I sit alone in vicinity of my room....I stand on that edge and feel it's burden and question myself if I did the right thing. Then contemplate my reasons for doing those mistakes..... everything that went around my mind at that very moment, and in some cases lie to myself that it was the right thing....and then trying to believe it.

From on that edge I can see myself doing them bitchy mistakes, and I feel sad for doing them, I think of what would have happened had I not done them and I think of what I gained.......... I don't think that I shouldn't have done them. I don't regret.....I just feel sad...for losing a few people, for learning by losing and for not changing after those lessons. Again....I don't think I shouldn't have done them. And then when I stand and leave...that I walk back from that edge knowing well that I'd return there with a few more mistakes. Mistakes I pile down that edge like some precious jewels that I don't wanna lose.....and I wonder if Hayat is one such jewel,

I returned back with a name, Hayat, not to throw it down that edge and into that vast valley in the back of my mind. I returned back, with a voice, it speaks and talks and sometimes it's all that I want. I return back with an image, of love and care. I return back with an epitome of passion and beauty. And I can't put it all down that edge and name it a mistake.. doing so defies everything that makes my being and which constitutes my sanity. I wouldn't dare challenge it. But then I can't let it roam freely for I would never be satisfied by what we had....that would be doing injustice to her existence.

So she now lives on that edge, she speaks from that edge, all those mighty words she'd said when she was in flesh and in front of me. From that edge she wishpers our sins and makes my skin tingle again with the same anticipation and the sense of belonging. From that edge she sings to me and loves me, talks with me.....every day, every morning she reminds me of how she woke me up with a good morning message and how we chatted the whole day. She reminds me of the kisses we shared and why it's a crime to do so with someone else. She reminds me of why I'd called her my life and not my love....for without life I could never survive....but wasn't that false...now that she was gone, I was still surviving, reminiscing in her memories....I'd quit living. Then was I right ?

I didn't know.

I don't know.

As I lay on my bed, my mind haywire and my thoughts wandering over to how beautiful she had looked when she'd confessed to me.......I couldn't help but feel something tighten in my chest. She had cried alright, and I was angry.....I had a reason to be angry! Though we hadn't shared anything at that time, I'd found her making out with Ishan on the bloody staircase! What did she expect?

It was the next day that she showed up at my apartment. I remember it as if it took place a minute ago.

I heard the bell ring and put down my half empty glass of whiskey. My room was as messed up as always and it almost hurt to see it that way. Almost. But who'd put in the efforts to clean the room?

I walked to the door and opened it to face a girl that I had no wish to look at. There she stood, she had dark circles under her swollen eyes, her lips were chapped and dry, her face flushed red.

I gulped the lump of anger in my throat and knew my eyes only reflected disappointment. Why did this girl mean so much to me? She was making out with that guy knowing we had something going on between us, it felt wrong even when they yet to name what they shared.

"Can I come in? " She asked in a voice barely above a whisper. Her voice sounded broken.

I kept looking at her, half of my conscience told me to bang the door on her face and the other half wanted to comfort her. She had wronged me damn it! I needed comforting and my whiskey was doing a really good job at it. I didn't need her here!

Just then the door of my neighbor's apartment opened and he stepped out. He gave me a look then his eyes moved to her and back to me.

"Everything alright?" He asked ,looking at her tear stained face. I bet he would like to make out with her on the stairs in front of us.

Putting the thought aside and taking Hayat away from where my neighbour kept staring at her lips, I closed the door behind them.

I was angry as it was, I didn't need anyone to trigger the anger I was barely holding together.

"What do you want?" I asked her. My hands were folded on my chest and blame it on the whiskey that I'd had but my eyes wandered to her chest. The T-shirt she wore was tight on her curves, taking shape of her body that was very enticing.

"I ....I wanted to talk." She uttered. There was relief in her eyes that didn't please me. I wasn't giving her a chance for lord's sake.

"Then talk and be on your way. I don't have much time to spend on you." My irritation was very clear in my voice.

"I....what you saw yesterday...I wanted to clear things about Ishan. It wasn't the way it....."

The images of him against her flashed through my mind and flared the anger that I was trying to control.

"Right....it wasn't the way I saw it.. it definitely wasn't you that was making out with him. Of course, it might've been someone who looked like you. Right? "

"You've got it wrong! And you won't get it even if I told you!" Tears rimmed her brown eyes.

"What won't I get Hayat? That you had something going on with Ishan at the same time that you led me on? If you wanted a casual fuck you should have said so! I wouldn't have gotten involved with you!" I half screamed at her. I was sure my neighbour was still out there with his ear pressed to my door.

My eyes were fixed on her face, she blinked the tears away as if forcing herself to take a stand.

"It isn't that way,"

"Then how is it? Huh? Tell me Hayat, did you not like him? Like Aasavari said?" I asked her, by fists were closed and I felt my nails digging in my palm.

"I did, but...."

"Fantastic!" I threw my arms in the air before putting them in the pockets of my sweatpants.

" Listen.....I know it isn't looking like....."

I didn't let her complete.

"What the fuck do you want! Why are you here!?"

I shouted. I shouted at a girl, something that I did very seldom. But she was angering me, I felt like ripping the hair off my head! She had no idea how much I'd been drinking since I'd seen her making out with him. She had no idea that no amount of whiskey or vodka was clearing the image of his hand on her skin. And while I was so desperately trying to remove her image from my head she simply pops up at my place with her eyes all puffy and as though in misery. What was going on in her head!? She had chosen him over me. End of the topic!

" It's not easy to ...."

" Are you kidding me Hayat. Not easy my ass. You're either trying to manipulate me and make a fool out of me or you think too highly of yourself. Now.. .. after sharing a moment with him I don't think you'll come here without a reason. "

I watched as new tears streamed down her cheeks and as she gulped in an effort to form some words. I didn't like her that way and I didn't wanna see her that way. A sigh escaped my lips and I bit my lip in frustration.

" Fine . " She finally spoke, her voice so timid and fragile I could barely hear her utter the word. Either she was a great actress or she really stood there vulnerable and for me to devour.

" I like you. I like you more than I would like to admit and that's scary because that is not what I want. I want to be with you but I dislike the idea of wanting to be with you. It feels as if I'm gambling with my inner self, like I'm debating whether I want you or not. On one end I see all the possibilities of me being with whom I thought I would want to be with and on the other end I see you and realize that maybe, just maybe, even though you are nothing like the person I wanted to be with, you're exactly with whom I feel like being with. Stupid ? I know. Well no one said I was a clever person !

You are not whom I'd WANT to be with but you're with whom I FEEL like being with and that changes the whole equation of me defining my expectations. So here's what I feel. I don't wanna be with you in any kind of a bond that restricts me from still wanting to be with the person I dreamed to be with, I don't wanna be in any kind of bond with you which will define or declare my emotions to the world for me instead of my being conveying my emotions to you. I don't think the world cares to know what kind of a relationship we are in and I surely don't find a need for setting and defining that relation between us. Will it be too much to ask to be with me without expecting me to stay ? Or without declaring to others that you wish for me to stay? Because I know there will be a time when I'll be with you for the sake of being with you, nothing more or less and at that time it would hurt me more than it would hurt you. It would seem like a proposal but really, it's just a confession. "