An Apology

In the bouts of losing oneself to ones innermost, inappropriate curiosity, I had met you. Each stupor splashed a shade over my vision which made everything so beautiful. Into a non-existent bliss, I made my home and invited you over for some coffee. You, another one, her and someone else too. So that’s how, all of us got tied to one thread called ‘tumultuous’ because of me. It was like watching a crocodile in the clear water and still diving in it.

To what limits can the destitution drive you, then was my turn to experience the thrill and the peace of having you to just talk with.

And I am not among those people who weigh life in profits and lose and never say “What was the use of that damn thing”. I am not the one who notes things in my mind and comes to conclusions and write the not-to-do list. Rather you could say I was simply reckless. Like the teenage boy who carries 4 eggs in a poly bag and cycles over mounds of soil and road ditches, knowing the eggs would break.

This time those were hearts. But was it so intense, was it that real, or was it a fantasy or just a wondrous dream. We, talking of us being together, knowing we will never be. I was the capricious, crazy person who always takes herself for granted. Therefore, my worry was for you. It is always for you-proportionate to the amount of my insanity. Cautiousness and carelessness thriving within me at the same time; one of me, another for you, that’s how it all went hand in hand.

And apologies are also confessions. Confessions are, yes it was the best of time and it pacified the scorch of this inhuman world. That your voice wasn’t just a voice but a song and your pain was the secret this society hid in the deepest bottom of its heart.

Now come’s my apology, ‘Yes it was euphoric, and fatal. Still, even for the sake of ANYTHING, I shouldn’t have made you take this risk, due to its momentary, volatile but equally addictive and sublime nature’. Hopeful that the piece of yours which may or may not have gotten trapped in that mirage, happens to be small enough to let go. And I am deeply sorry my dear, I am sorry’.


This story was about:
Huma Khan

We hate spam as much as you. Enter your email address here.