Midnight Blues

Should I write? I know I haven’t written in ages. At least not since she….. well nothing else seems to work, guess writing would take my mind off things for a while. Wait, Is that sun light? Crap! Another night gone and no sign of sleep. This is getting out of hand, I need to get hold of it. But is it really necessary? I mean, is being sane really that necessary? Well it is, especially if you have a habit of being over indulged in the past and making things worse than they need to be. Ok, ok I get it, now Shut Up. I need to focus and having a conversation within my head isn’t really helpful.


For the past couple of months, my life hasn’t really been on the track. That is, to say, I have been having some issues with myself. Nothing serious just the insomnia and a constant ache in my heart. You guessed it right, the joys of being in love. You see exactly two months ago I received a text that turned my world upside down. I was with my friends, flatmates to be exact, working on a project for our college team when I received it. The text said, “We need to stay away for a while, I need some time to clear things up. See you soon.” The message was simple. She wanted to stay away for a while. There was something bothering her and she just wanted to make sure everything was okay. The past few days weren’t really good for us. We both were having problems in our lives. Her text was just a remainder that things won’t be good any sooner than I expected. Yet I assured myself sooner or later everything would be alright.

Two months have passed since then and I haven’t received a single message as to how she is, let alone a phone call. I have been waiting for her, waiting for a sign, any sign that would tell me that everything would be alright, that we would be together again. But no. Every night I keep waiting, with every passing hour the night grows old and eventually the sun rises but my agony continues to be. It seems as if I am being churned by the wheels of time itself.

At first there was hope, but gradually even hope started to fade and I started to question myself, was it somehow my fault that she left without saying goodbye? Or was that text her way of saying goodbye? Did she wanted me to keep waiting for her when she knew she won’t be coming back? Or I am losing hope too soon? Two months isn’t soon, is it? Eventually the questions got tired of remaining unanswered so my heart decided to torture me by reminding me of her whenever possible. I tried very hard to focus on my projects. Being involved in something that I liked would certainly take my mind off her. Well, at least I thought it would do so, but my heart just kept reminding me of her over and over again until reality got mixed with imagination. I would be doing something important and all of a sudden, her thoughts would occupy my mind and I would be lost dreaming about her.


There are so many things that I want to say to her but she is nowhere to listen. Every night I stay up late writing letters to her, letters about how much I miss her, how badly I want to hear her voice, how miserable I am without her. And every morning when the sun rises I burn those letters. It breaks my heart to do so but I know she is not going to come back and I can’t risk anyone knowing what I am going through. You see those who are close to me think of me as a free-spirited, soft-spoken, reserved kind of person. If only they heard the voice screaming inside my head would they know how dark I am inside, if only they could feel the storm raging within the void of myself would they know the paradox that is me.


You see, when someone so dear and beloved leaves you, you change beyond repair. There is nothing that can ever mend the broken pieces of your soul. Even grave wounds heal over time but the print that they leave behind on your soul remains there, constantly burning, reminding you of your broken trust and broken heart.

I’m no longer the person that I used to be, her leaving me got me twisted, broken, hurt. She liked me because I was blue but now everything is grey my pills, my smoke, my dreams. The stories and poems I used to write have turned to a shade dark and so is my future.
I spend my nights drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. And this is the story how a heartbreak and months of agony later an introvert was damaged beyond recognition by the loving an extrovert.