|||
Image source: Photo by Etty Fidele on Unsplash
The crinkles at the corners of her eyes and the curve of her lips when she smiled couldn’t hide the sadness, emptiness and the shadows that wrapped her heart in a fiery ball of emotions.
It was in the way she looked at things in a deeply thoughtful way as if trying to deep-dive to find a motive even if there was none.
It was the sullen calmness of the words she spoke, the way she responded as if she had been there before as if she could relate as if she understood the feeling- the twisted emotions, the joy that comes with little wins and the bigger ones…
Yet, when niceties were directed at her, her eyes grew wider in shock than of satisfaction; you would think she was undeserving of it.
It was in the way she blames herself over something that wasn’t her fault and apologises fearfully over every minute thing. You’d like to think it’s her mind; painting and repainting the pictures of her past experiences in haunting flashback forms that probably keeps her up at night makes her restless - tossing and turning till dawn.
Whatever haunted her at night, that keeps her restless or awake, whatever memory she revisited each night she shut her eyes, that leaves her in tears, paralysed, and trembling in cold sweat born of fear.
She knew she had to address it or allow it to consume her but she was scared of what the knowledge of the truth could do to her.
So, she hides from herself, unable to face the truth, knowing the revelation of the truth could be the death of her.
