Celebrating 6 months of my admission to myself of the greatest madness, biggest blunder I have done in my life till date. Being in an impossible love story (more impossible, never thought that's virtually possible, than the navy guy or the scientist).
"I am in love with him. Amid the confusion and depression that has become a regular part of this life, I love him unabashedly. Because I need a bubble to survive. And I can't live without loving somebody. Nowadays I don't put the precondition that he has to love me back. Just that I have to like him, and he should be a bit like me.
I don't hope for a relationship at this stage of my life. I don't even hope about getting back my somewhat decent consolation prize of a career that I used to have 3 years back. I am bankrupt in every sort of way and I don't hope. Period."
So, six months down the line, I tell my niece - I am scared of getting more addicted if he writes to me because I already miss him when he doesn't write and if he keeps on writing he's bound to stop someday and then I'd miss him like hell.
My niece, in her wisdom of the great 18 years of age, retorts back - you are not scared hon, you are scarred. Maybe chessman will heal them...
I don't think he will - I don't have that lofty an expectation from life. But I rather like the way my fairy tale has shaped up in these six months...I don't know if I am really happy but at least it feels like happiness... :)
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