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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac

The melodies of shattered glass

Shards of precious shiny things look beautiful even in a rioted mess. The bits and pieces of shattered glass illuminated the bare ground with its reflected shine and beautiful it was. I looked into those shattered, glittering eyes and felt so attached and yet pained at seeing them. After all, shattered eyes only give piercing looks and could hurt one if touched. The sight of the beautiful mess belied the sharp edges that jut out of each glass piece. The yellow sunlight assured everyone with warmth and colour that dilutes the gaze from the shimmering ground. Hollow eyes. Broken inside. He wasn't the hero-to-be. He was just another guy who watched too many girls falling for good guys kind of fairy tales. He didn't know that life wasn't half as wonderful, pretty, perfect as movies promote. In a movie, 10 years is but a minute away. in 10 years, nothing changes, maybe the moustache, maybe the applied wrinkles but truthfully, a movie is never an adaptation in its pinnacle. The guy had used the words used in a teen flick. He combed his hair. As if he could. He wore the heart of a brave nut and he was made to look the fool. Nothing was ever the fairy tale type. Girls would attest but for once, they are not right. The prince charming is but a superficial desire, for thought, care and love is often substituted by looks and charm. He looked at the girl's eyes and saw her pupils dilate and he wanted to say words that could charm a girl. He didn't and she wasn't the girl whom he thought he could turn to. She was just a girl, and he was just a guy. There was no fairytale fuck (in the sense nonsense, not sex). I was just running away when i talk to her. When i try to get her gifts. When i thought i could talk her out of leaving. When i kept her christmas cards in my drawers that i am too gutted to give. When i went bollocks because of life. I was just being in denial. I was just thinking, no no this isn't true. My life is better than a movie. But its not. Its just a life that is not created in the kingdoms in the clouds in the heavens somewhere. It was just another life that has nothing to do with the fairytales, fantasies that are fed to us everyday. Hope is but a distant memory. Do i want to hope that my fairytale is a prolonged soap opera? Or do i cut my sadness short and say enough? I've already known my answer, but i can't do it. Not because i don't want to, but because i just can't. I placed all my chips and more and luck and heart in it and nothing can be savaged. There's no blame, no regret, only sadness, only melodies. I do not hope for understanding, i just pray for a reprieve. Am i not punished enough? Did i not do enough? I know the world is unfair..

#Personalblog #2008

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