There has been a question killing me every time I look at a face, eyes which glare with passion, lips which speak pain. This face comes in forms of a hungry little boy,a glance of a pretty girl,a smile lingering on a boy's face on a lonely road. :What's Your Story?:
What is their story,how different is their life from mine,is their pain similar to mine and their happiness? Do I experience the same magnitude of happiness and love as they do? But I'm making peace with the fact that I can never know their stories even if their faces flash in my head when I close my eyes every night. So, I decided that in the world of my thoughts,I'd save instances from these stories. Maybe one day I'd make head or tail out of it. Maybe one day, I would actually understand what people actually mean and how they cross each others path and maybe one day, I would understand their stories. The stories that they'll never tell me. Here is one such instance, that my head will grow used to.
I took tired steps down the sheltered pathway and this couple grabbed my attention. In the middle of the road, they stood in each others' arms. I could tell when the broke away,that it was a tough separation. I walked closer to them, and they looked back at each other. She turned,he turned and they looked at each other at once. There was this moment I believed in love and destiny,like you can actually feel the presence of the person around you,like you can hold on to loads of memories and then judge a pattern and get used to it,like getting used to each other and their habits. I walked ahead and the girl brushed past against me. She looked me in the eye,her eyes swollen and her face red with emotion. I could instantly feel her vibe of sorrow,but she could only feel my stare. A stare which might have seemed judgy. I tried following the boy,he walked with hands in his pockets,turned back a few more times but she was gone,briskly waded through other couples and then disappeared into the crowd. He faded and their story in my head lingered for long. I didn't know why they were separated,I didn't know what was bothering them, I didn't even know how the boy felt about the separation,but the atmosphere was filled with heartbroken-feels and I could see it seep inside me.
Imagination can do magic,magic that never existed. I might be over-thinking the whole thing,but I don't understand what I shouldn't Imagination is truly something I would love to depend on,when I'm getting old and boring. So yeah,there was separation. Looks can be deceiving, but what the heart sees is greater than anything else.
What is their story,how different is their life from mine,is their pain similar to mine and their happiness? Do I experience the same magnitude of happiness and love as they do? But I'm making peace with the fact that I can never know their stories even if their faces flash in my head when I close my eyes every night. So, I decided that in the world of my thoughts,I'd save instances from these stories. Maybe one day I'd make head or tail out of it. Maybe one day, I would actually understand what people actually mean and how they cross each others path and maybe one day, I would understand their stories. The stories that they'll never tell me. Here is one such instance, that my head will grow used to.
I took tired steps down the sheltered pathway and this couple grabbed my attention. In the middle of the road, they stood in each others' arms. I could tell when the broke away,that it was a tough separation. I walked closer to them, and they looked back at each other. She turned,he turned and they looked at each other at once. There was this moment I believed in love and destiny,like you can actually feel the presence of the person around you,like you can hold on to loads of memories and then judge a pattern and get used to it,like getting used to each other and their habits. I walked ahead and the girl brushed past against me. She looked me in the eye,her eyes swollen and her face red with emotion. I could instantly feel her vibe of sorrow,but she could only feel my stare. A stare which might have seemed judgy. I tried following the boy,he walked with hands in his pockets,turned back a few more times but she was gone,briskly waded through other couples and then disappeared into the crowd. He faded and their story in my head lingered for long. I didn't know why they were separated,I didn't know what was bothering them, I didn't even know how the boy felt about the separation,but the atmosphere was filled with heartbroken-feels and I could see it seep inside me.
Imagination can do magic,magic that never existed. I might be over-thinking the whole thing,but I don't understand what I shouldn't Imagination is truly something I would love to depend on,when I'm getting old and boring. So yeah,there was separation. Looks can be deceiving, but what the heart sees is greater than anything else.
