Maybe that is where i went wrong-
Wearing her like a crown on my head.
Young women are just, too young for a forever.
They are just stupid enough for passion,instantaneous acts of love making.They grow too old and bored with those same moments of holding hands. Time for them, runs on a treadmill and they desire all that heat and intensity more.
My masculine existence restricts me from calling it their fault when the forefathers and brothers of my sex has overlooked them for so long. Sometimes i believe that is why they adore makeup so much. Just for the purpose to outshine someone, something or just themselves. And i cannot really say how those fake colours fail to establish its variety of purposes, even for the ugly women.
Maybe i should have given up, when she told me to stop with the music. When she warned me against stepping everywhere in a symphony. How unmanly it looks. Or how i should be more presentable. How dirty it is to not take a bath, how she felt uncomfortable to touch an unkempt body. How good it would feel, if she could fuck a moviestar-like guy. No matter how worthless she herself is. Maybe a girl, maybe a woman never stops dreaming big. Of a house, of a job, of being a queen or fucking a moviestar.
I should have stopped when she got tired of year after year of pujas, and those specail days and occasions , and year after year of memories of us together smiling. So long that i had learnt those smiles by heart. Or i should have stopped, when i asked her for a pen, when i intended to give her a flower, that amounted to five flowers a week that grew old and dry in my dark cold bag every night. Atleast i should not have let her near my naked body,kiss my skin, feel that kiss and tell her i love her,the thousand times i did.
All along i knew i was too late. Too late to save her or myself. My sex fucked her up so long that all i am left with now, is a fucked up women i can only observe and look after. A sad irony, that like a forceful conversation only feels silence. Sad like how a zero has to exist without any value. Or maybe i should just be a man and accept it.
I was looking straight into her eyes for about 10minutes. It seemed like dreaming. She had this power over me, making me imagine of a whole universe just with her eyes. Only this time, she did not keep looking back, she looked at me in a most peculiar way, because nobody stares back at someone they love when that person just said that they want to breakup with them. She was concerned about what was wrong with me this time. Sometimes i think, girls are concerned of all the wrong things. Its upsetting sometimes, how they gain a differential insight into your head and soul sometimes.
The phone rang and she had a horrible conversation with her dad. When she came back to the room where she had sat me down with a cup of coffee that turned probably as cold as she seemed to me now. And i loved coffee. And i was reassured that Time is the most fearful aspect of nature. When i returned to where i was, i saw a similar fear on her face, looking more aesthetic with a ting of perplexed-ness, a dash of anger and that sweet little hopelessness that used to make me hold on to her hand whenever i saw her sit like that. I asked her what was wrong. Being a strong woman she said she was fine. But when i did not hesitate to ask again, being a woman, she burst with little droplets of tears and a faint voice that was trying to hold onto them, a most stupid mechanism that i still dont get. The jist of her problem was that her father could be probably arrested for being initially unlucky, then turning filthy, then filthy rich in which period he made his personal mistakes and thus unlucky again. He was also an asshole, who neglected his family treated both his wife and daugther like servants and looked at them with disgust. And only came back during problems and begged for help. I told her that that is how most adults of today are, weak and too full of themselves. It did not help her cause much. I was never good at calming her down with words. I could not be that instantaneouly charming with my words as her moviestars. But like a dear, she would always completely ignore what i would say. Like a dear, she did it again. Her current problem was that her father told her that the police might come looking for him that day. And when they do, she should not tell her about his whereabouts. This he did with such love in his voice, i presume, which had been more discomforting as she could not choose between a father and an asshole anymore.
I sat there, realizing her agony and how alone she might be feeling. How softly her heart always beats when she is lost, it almost feels like she is about to die. I began to feel afraid too then. Knowing i have no reason to be there anymore, she has already left me and that would not even change with anything i do, as she clearly said in those exact words. I was afraid to unnecessarily face the police when and if they came. How to handle them, what to say, how to hide my fear of the police, what if they try to hurt her or take her into custody for questioning? What would i say, if they asked me anything? I saw her face again, probably for a minute or two, it looked so similar to just some time ago when we were still together only in distress. I moved the cold coffee, grabbed her cold hand and reailzed being a man is just accepting how and what it is, and still being there. Being a man is just very necessary when a woman stops being a woman by herself.
So i told her that it will all be fine, trying to hold on to my fear with my faint voice, knowing a little how this stupid mechanism works. I promised her all by myself that i wont leave just yet. She just said a plain and simple “Okay”.
And we sat there holding hands and waiting.
Maybe that is where i went wrong.