You’ve got me all figured out with your psychoanalysis.

Yes indeed, I’ve had a traumatic childhood being separated from Devdas. Could you comprehend how difficult it was for me to lit a candle for more than a decade without letting the flame extinguish? No rain, storm, thunder, or tsunami had that kind of power over my love.

The obsession and preoccupation of equating the flame to Devdas’ lifeline had me develop OCD. Do you know what hurt most though? The bastard whom I worshipped left me, while I had no choice but to marry an old fart. I was forbidden to love Devdas, whilst my husband continued to mourn, love, and talk to his dead wife’s portrait. My only use in the household was to look pretty and act as a mother to the children who were most likely even older than me.

Eventually I had to cope with the knowledge that my love had turned into a pathetic drunk as I continued to feed the flame of his life with more vegetable oil. Everyone told me to use olive oil or desi ghee but I remained stubborn. To my horror, Devdas had reached my doorstep waiting to see me one last time before he died. I ran, I screamed - but to no avail, the door jarred shut and I was barred from the right to even be a part of his final breath.

Of course I’ve built a shield. Of course I need acceptance and friendship. My only friend who ever accepted me died underneath a tree right in front of a house that has now become my dungeon.

You’ve totally figured me.
I’m completely

Edited by FingerFetish - 5 years ago
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