Nothing could ever hurt more than expectations.

Imagination… what our heart weaves, wishing it to be true… may never come true but do one thing very well- break it into un-mendable pieces, once our heart accepts- “it wasn’t meant to be”

I was apprehensive, to let you into my life at first but then..

I imagined- yet again, I am good at it- I imagined that you have arrived to fill the void of a ‘true’ friend. I imagined you were here because you liked what you knew about me. I thought my words were able to express what I couldn’t ever have been able to; and it was the words that connected me to you and you to my soul, for words were all I possessed. I thought you were able see the ‘real’ me from my words.

I thought the fire that ignited from the pokes or the things I could never say, but you understood, was driving us near; making you more of  trusted one than a mere stranger. I thought you liked me when you used to stalk my profile and knew all things which were made public. I thought you too had fallen along those songs and movies discussion where I had lost my heart.

I never thought I would again have to bear the weight of the pieces of a broken heart again. I thought my hardships and loneliness were going to end. I ‘imagined’ it was “love”, when it never was. I ‘imagined’ it all… to suffer some more.

It isn’t the expectations that hurt; its the faith that still lingers on to heart’s desire, unwilling to accept the harsh truth too soon. The first tear that escapes the eye is of defeat- from own self, own wishes and expectations, and others that follow are of regret, to have been fool enough to let go of self again.

To be foolish enough to give the fragile, damaged heart to some stranger, believing maybe, just maybe this time its going to heal more than it hurts; yet again being helpless while you see it breaking over and over again. And the flickering flame of faith still lingers, in hope to find the solace somehow.

By: Deep words

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