He Called Her At Midnight

"She looks so sad."

"That is one beautiful drawing, what inspired it?"

"Weren't you afraid to show such naked emotion in a design?"

These were some of the comments and questions raised by her visitors. The ones she deigned to let across the front door for she was a private person and valued her solitude. Her hand shook slightly as her index finger traced the lines of a heart-shaped face, big eyes full of incomprehensible sorrow and pink lips pursed in disdain. Save for the pink lips; black encompassed the piece and put forth the emotions that could never be hidden even after the passage of time. 

Looking at her, so dark and laden with emotions; the events leading to her  existence unfolded before her eyes. It took a great deal of effort to bring herself back from the abyss the breakup with Max had thrown her into. There had been days when her despair was too potent for her to get through, days where she turned up to work in full black because that was the only way she could explain her mood and dressing required a lot more effort than she had. Days where she would take constant bathroom breaks at work just to shed the tears in her heart. When the pain was too intense and breathing had become a chore. 

Time was indeed the healer of all wounds. To be able to look back on all that pain and feel a slight niggle of disappointment in the people they failed to be for each other attested to her emotional state. She was even crazier for entertaining the thought of seeing him again. 

“Had he changed? Would he notice the woman she had become? Had their time apart been as hard for him as it had for her at the beginning?” All these questions rotated in her mind like a spinning wheel and almost made it impossible for her to return to the task at hand. One thing was certain, Max was hurting and needed her. That is all that mattered, for now. 

Alexandra gave the piece one last glance and put it back on the mantle. Looking at her work from this vantage point gave her a level of satisfaction she could never get enough of. Art has always been there for her; even in her darkest days, she could rely on it to bring her back from the depths of despair. 

Dawn was soon breaking and she needed to put the finishing touches to the draft she was currently working on for a close friend. He had commissioned a piece from her on a whim so she wanted to knock his socks off with her artistic interpretation of his name. A smile crossed her face as she thought of him. 

Liam. He had came into her life when she least wanted to form lasting ties with anyone let alone a man yet couldn’t turn down his offer of friendship.

Dear Love...

Dear Love,

You will have to forgive me for writing you this letter but I feel that it is long over due. I have waited patiently for your arrival for so long that sometimes I forget that I am actually waiting. I am slowly starting to accept the fact that I just may be that one person in the family that may never discover the beauty within you.

The times that I think deeply about you make me question your existence. Are you there for me? Are you not a figment of my imagination? Are you not an illusion I entertain courtesy of the Romance novels I have poured over the years to make my soul happy? To nurture my wanning faith in your actual existence?

There are a handful of instances where I felt that you were so close that not only could I believe in your true existence but could languish in the feelings that the thought of you evoked. In these instances; I have experienced nothing but snatched hope and dreams.

Rejection, disappointment and ghosting at your expense have brought me unimaginable pain. Pain I did not think I would ever experience time and time again coupled with my other lot in life. Physical pain heals but emotional pain, there is no permanent relief for that except time, endurance and acceptance.

If there is anything this life has shown me; it is that to accept to hurt interminably for an unknown period of time takes sheer will power many do not have and neither do I. I almost came close to throwing in the towel this time last year because it was heartwrenchingly tough for me to withstand being emotionally and physically broken at the same time.

Would you believe it if I told you that I have rivulets of tears streaming down my face while penning you this letter? I would like to believe that it is cathartic but that would be lying. I have been crying on and off since July begun for no good reason. No. There is a good reason. I tend to lose people that I actually care for and presumably care for me in this month. And last year, well... I gathered my self--respect and lost again.

I look back on the times I was led on because of you. The times I have had my hopes crushed out of empty promises. The times I have believed in the words of humans that have never so much as paid for my data subscription and worst of it all; having to share my most prized dream - little Shanah's existence and mapped out life like she was a useless piece of gossip to share with everyone.

I hate you for that, you know. I hate you for having the ability to let people bait others with their most cherished dreams for entertainment: hoping that it comes true with them. Some things should be no-go areas and this is one of them.

Do you exist? I believe you do. I see hints of you in a lovers' embrace, the lingering glances and touches, beautifully written words in text and the intimate gestures that breathe nothing but familiarity between couples that make me sigh out of pleasure for being privvy to them from the sidelines.

Do you exist for me? I do not know. Would I like to find out? Maybe. I remain uncertain of this because of past experiences. I find myself shying away from flirtations and deeper conversations with the opposite sex because I do not wish to hurt any more. I no longer have the desire for meaningless conversations with people that do not excite me intellectually, humorously and emotionally. Most of all; I have come to loathe being used as a vessel to alleviate people's boredom, faux separation and silent treatments in their relationships.

People are under the impression that I am seeking perfection. They could not be more wrong. I am seeking emotional availability, consistency, honesty and action. Nothing more than that. But, it kind of seems too much to ask especially during this wait for you. I do not even know what to ask for anymore. The endless waiting period has filled me with a lot of doubt regarding your existence for me.

If you do exist for me, If you eventually arrive, may you be everything and more than I could ever dream of. May you show me your glorious beauty and imbue my soul with all the contentment it can take. And most of all; give me the simple pleasure of basking in the splendor of your reflection in a lover's eyes and warmth of his embrace.

Yours,
Shanah

He Called Her At Midnight

There it was. The invite. A chance to step into his world again. She had kept it at the back of her mind that they would cross paths, but, never thought of the manner in which it would happen. Not this way, anyway.

Alexandra took stock of her surroundings with a cursory glance at the design she was currently working on. She had done good by herself. It had been hard, but, in the five years of their separation; she had chased the career she'd desired and went on to become the most sought after graphic design artists in New York. Everything around her gave her a sense of pride and fulfilment she'd never expected to have without him by her side. It meant that much more that she had succeeded on her own.

"Alexandra?" are you still there?"

Max's voice brought her back from her little reverie. He needed an answer and she needed to see him again, if only to see how he was holding up.

"Yes. I can come over, just not tonight. I'm under a tight deadline and I can't interrupt the creative process at this moment. Can you give me two days from now?", she asked?

"It'd mean a lot to me if you could make it tonight, please. Think about it."

With that entreaty, Max hang up.

Alexandra listened to the incessant beep of the dial tone for awhile longer before she finally took the phone from her ear and looked at it in disbelief. It was so like Max to ask for something monumental and act like it wasn't a big deal. If he could be so nonchalant about it, so could she.

After hanging up, she made her way to the mantle holding all the accolades she had received in the five years. Fine things. Appreciation for jobs well done and trophies from the Women's entrepreneurial groups on which she was a Board member. Encompassing all the trophies was the wall on which hang a few pictorial prints of her work. She unerringly reached for the largest print on the wall and took it back with her to the work table.

"Beautyin Ugly". The one design that held more of a personal meaning to her than the rest of her designs. Its title and frame held secrets only she was aware of and never shared with anyone. Beauty in Ugly was a result of an onslaught of despondency and despair, on a night she never thought she'd be able to get through without him. The fateful day she broke up with Max, she had acted so cool and stoic in his presence yet her heart was breaking into pieces. Her staidness only got her far enough from his presence before the shattered pieces of her heart pricked through the facade.

He Called Her At Midnight

"Alexandra. I hope I didn't wake you", he said.
"No. I am up finalizing a design."
She heard him draw a deep albeit shaky breath. Like he was mentally bracing himself for what he was about to say. Hearing him do so put her on edge. The call itself had thrown her mind and emotions off kilter. To hear him do so before revealing his reasons for the late night phone call didn't bode well.
"Max... What's wrong?"
"Alexandra... She... I need you..."
Max was never a stutterer. If anything; he was the one person you could rest assured would find the right words, no matter the situation. His incoherent reply meant the situation was a lot worse than she could imagine.
"What is it?", she asked. "Tell it to me at once because you're scaring me."
With that; her thoughts raced over every possible situation that could get him to act this way. Try as she may; she couldn't find a plausible reason that would explain his current behavior. She was about to prod him for an explanation when his hushed words cut off her thoughts.
"Tessa died." He whispered over the phone. "She must have slipped out of the apartment while I was in the shower."
His change in tone denoted the gravity of the situation. A situation, it seemed, he couldn't bring himself to accept. Every word out of him came in slow, shaky tones that brooked no interruption.
Tears rushed to her eyes as she tried to stifle a sob while listening to the gory details. Marc- his next door neighbour, had found the little dog whimpering and covered in blood on the way back from his late night jog. He'd immediately scooped it up and rushed to Max's apartment after recognising her spotted tail.
Alexandra could only imagine what this loss would do to him. Tessa was his world. The last tangible link to a past he refused to let go of. The one thing he swore was the only good thing out of it. Knowing how much Tessa meant to him made her glad for the fact that they were able to share her last moments together - in the safe haven of his arms where she had known so much love and comfort.

loss

 Why is loss the hardest thing to go through? Why do we have to lose friends, the people that we care about in this process? Why does it turn out that the person you trusted the most is the one that you should have been wary of more than anything in the world?

I wonder if everyone thinks about the loss of a great friend. Loss in the sense that you had to let go of the friendship due to something that happened not because of death

I had a friend who I loved talking to so much, everything was all about laughter and fun with a bit of seriousness here and there. The sad thing is that this friend took advantage of our friendship and did something I least expected. It wasn't a big deal but for some reason I can't move on from that and when I see her, I feel this overwhelming rage. I don't want her near me nor associating with the people I talk to yet we have people we share in common.

When I think about the moments we shared, I end up regretting the loss of that friendship because I do miss her. I sometimes wonder if I handled that situation badly. I can't help think to myself that maybe its my fault, the way things are between us.

However much I might regret the loss of the friendship, I don't feel any remorse in letting go of her because, I feel that, once someone wrongs you and you forgive, they might take advantage of you at some point in the future.

Maybe I just have an unforgiving nature?