Once upon a time..

"I loved rain too, once upon a time. I am not very sure anymore... "

It rained. But it did not matter to me. This time it was just drops of water falling off the sky. A mere weather phenomenon.

My life was never multi-coloured. It has been in monochrome for a long time now except for some stray splashes of colours that spill over from different people and their lives. However, it does not bother me except but when I think of you. You have painted your life with brightest colours so much so that when I look at you my eyes hurt, they sting. Whereas, when I look back at myself, whatever I see is almost always in grayscale.

Sighs.

I am getting tired of my fake pledges. Every other week I repeat to myself, "It should not matter to me... I should stop doing this or that... blah blah and more such blah". Nevertheless, every other week I witness a repeat telecast of the same dramas with the same climaxes that I have watched for about a thousand and a half times. Perhaps, I secretly hope and pray that may be, just may be, this time all this will end differently. In vain. This time as well I want to tell myself, "Listen you! You will not do this again." But I cannot find enough courage in me.

My tragedy is that my feelings are locked in a box whose keys were never given to me. My tragedy, my dear, is that my justifications are never good enough. My tragedy, my dear, is that no matter how groundless your reasons are they are always good enough. My tragedy, my dear, is that my words are delivered from my fingers only. My tragedy, my dear, is that my tongue refuses to cater to my words. My tragedy, my dear, is that even when I am right, you coax me into believing otherwise. My tragedy, my dear, is you.

I am not wrong but I am unable to prove myself right. And as far as I have experienced, you are not innocent until proved guilty. You are guilty until proved innocent. It does not matter how loud I scream my innocence out. I need an alibi - that is good enough. Where will I ever get an alibi that is better than yours? Nowhere.

I wish you knew how tired I am. I am tired of being wrong. I am tired of being sorry. I am tired. And so is the reader.