Found this on facebook. And it is quite apt. I felt like it should be recognized and published. And here it is. This piece of writing by omair left a strong impact on me.
She once said: “This world is made up of two kinds.
“You have your star-catchers. And then you have your moonless-dreamers.”
And I asked: “Which one are you?”
“What you leave me to be.”
What if The Sky and The Earth meet secretly, when the world is off to sleep? And last night, they couldn’t. That will explain the crying of The Sky. And like every lover out there, The Earth is soaking the tears of its beloved.
I look out of the drenched windowpane—raindrops lashing against the glass—the world is shining under the nightfall, in a melancholic way.
Even after four years, has nothing changed inside me? Oh dear rain, let go of me already, please?
I look at the stillness of the coffee, which has turned cold. I am soaked into the aroma, and a distant memory, like a bird flying back to its nest, comes back to me…
I was running and I was drenched, but I did not mind either. My legs hurt. I didn’t care. I had to stop her. Stop her from going. We all do mistakes. And I did one too. And it collapsed the bridge, the connection between our souls. If it was raining across the country, there was a tsunami inside my heart.
“Don’t go. And don’t let me go!” I stopped her, just before she could march the taxi and leave for the airport. “What I did was stupid, but please?” I know she could distinct my tears and the raindrops. She always could. Just this time, she did not. Maybe, it would have weakened her?
“You were the one to walk out,” she said. Her honey-dipped voice lingered around my ears. Would this be the last time I ever hear her speak again?
“Please?” I pleaded.
“It didn’t hurt when you chose her. She was all you ever cared about. Prettier, smarter, and above all, not broken like me.
“‘My favorite book, and you’re just a page,’ didn’t you say that? She was your obvious choice. I am happy for the two of you, honestly.”
I wanted to run away. From everything. From her words. From myself.
“You hold her hand tight, because you are afraid to let go. I was afraid to let you go, too, but did you feel that? No. I’m glad you found love. But will it be forever? I don’t know. I hope it is. And my love? It will last forever. I still love you. I really do. But it is over.
“It doesn’t hurt that you chose her, but you know what does? The fact that I could be everything she ever will be. Hell! Even better. But you never cared to look at me the way you look at her now. For me, you are now just a distant memory. I almost had you, and you almost loved me.” She pressed her lips against mine. We kissed each other with tears in our eyes, because we both were in love and it wasn’t with each other.
She left me as a moonless-dreamer.
I press the cup against my lips. It tastes pale. The moonless sky is a bit like me… gloomy. I wonder if she look at the same sky and think of me, too. But most importantly, I feel good to share the same sky bed. It keeps me close to her, at least that is what I believe. After all, she has etched herself in me. And if I ever wake up with Amnesia, and she happened to walk into my hospital room to check on me, I would fall for her all over again, and not even know who I am. That’s what she can do.