The hardened soul...

You thought I love you? I thought you do...
Both felt misleading is a great virtue.
Despair killed one more love impromptu.

The last two weeks having been extremely hectic, as sudden as skyfall, today I find myself completely idle. My grandmother was an early riser (I used to sleep at 3, she used to get up at 3:30 - hence my famous saying that you'd more or less find somebody awake in our home at all hours). Anyways, she seems to have imparted her habit on me - ever since her demise I haven't gotten up beyond 7 (major thing for me because given the slightest chance I'd happily sleep till 11)...

So I decided to look back at the last turning point of my life. At Facebook. Being this typical unsocial being, it is not easy for me to like FB, but I don't dislike it as much as I used to. The addiction increased after a real friend left me unexpectedly, it intensified soon after I got a virtual friend. I am not a popular person, so people hardly like my posts. It was as if my one way dialogue with him, aided by my imagination. All because he called me beautiful. It was a different story when I was actually beautiful...even 5 years back, when I still hoped that my wounds might heal. He said this at a time when I had lost it all. And I could perceive life seeping back in me, like magic, that transforms the autumn leaves and bring about a green tinge on the shriveled branches. Maybe it was short-lived, but my God, wasn't it beautiful! Yes, that was the turning point till the time my grandma suddenly decided to bid adieu to her cosy little world. And his life transformed around the same time. Expected too. Whose life doesn't change for the better? Except perhaps mine.

I happen to take everything in my stride. Like when I lost around 4250 bucks - most probably the money was stolen during the busy time we have had during the funeral. Most probably by the same helping hands at home who we trusted. But what's the point in cribbing? I let it go...I have also considerably lost my focus. I get baffled easily and lose coherence and continuity. On the other hand - I am a hardened soul. Seeing someone die, the rituals, the visit to the crematorium, the last rites and inviting people for it...they alter something in you permanently. I am no longer scared...neither do I hope or pray fervently. I just want it all to end, and end soon...