Maaneet SS: This Is Life...UPD. Page 2+3 COMplete - Page 2

Originally posted by: DUGGUlicious

@Varshu: Thankuuu for the comment...will do my best hun!

@Priya;

This SS is not related with the serial...its has a totally different plot so you can follow it without having see GHSP.

Thanks for your precious help 🤗🤗

Chapter 1

Two years had passed, seven hundred and thirty days exactly.
Seven hundred and thirty days of pure hell.
That July 29 was a full-fledged summer day, the heat made impossible to breathe and the sun burned skin, but the chill in me persisted. My soul was now a sheet of ice, I could not even cry, staring into space, my face devoid of expression, like a porcelain doll.
I was there, motionless, before the grave of the person I loved most in the world, reviewing my life like an old film.
Its crystalline laugh, his eyes, the smell of his aftershave, the accident in which he lost his life .. I fell back on everything, I was flooded with every memory.
Only then, when I heard the heavens crush me to the ground, tears walked my face.
I hated those moments, I preferred to be an empty shell rather than a treasure full of memories with emotions.
I lived in a constant state automaton, devoid of feelings and thoughts, but I had only a moment to remember his smile, his voice, his death, to be overwhelmed by feelings that exhaust me.
The feeling of guilt, abandonment, anger, throbbing pain, frustration and helplessness became the only feeling capable of devouring what little soul that remained to me. When this happened I could only write. Write to impress my malaise and spoiled on all that pain.
The best place to get rid of was definitely our place among the roots of the big oak tree in the park not far from the city center where was still carved our initials.
Majestic tree.
I sat down on the floor and clenching my pen I let go, and brought forth words and tears.
I wrote sitting in the shade of the big oak tree thinking of you, to us, without realizing time went on, I was there for hours. Probably I stay there for hours at a time.
The time passed so quickly, do not give me a way of realizing it. When I looked at the clock I noticed it was too much late and I had to run away, run away from our shelter and plunge back into everyday life, a life not lived indeed.
Sometimes, perhaps often, I wondered how I could live again. How could I go on if you were not looking to the future with me.
I could not answer these questions, I could not find valid reasons, so I just did not do it, I was not living.

That night I looked everywhere on my notebook, what held captive my emotions, that I was writing whenever the sky I squashed against the cold ground, but did not find it.
I looked for it the next day, and the next. I thought by now I'd lost it permanently until I remembered the abrupt way in which I had left our place and what I was doing before running away.
I walked at that moment towards the park, almost running, but still slowed down before reaching the oak.
I walked slowly and I saw a man who was reading with great interest the pages of a notebook that I was not difficult to recognize.

I felt stripped, my every emotion and every thought of mine were confined between the lines that the man was reading.
I felt violated, because in those pages was enclosed my being.
I was furious because that stranger was staring my soul without hesitation.
The more I thought, the more the anger in me growing up, I had allowed a stranger to break all my barrier.
I approached him, probably like a beast, and tore the book from his hands shouting at.
-How dare you! Who gave you the permission to take possession of what belongs to others! -
The man, boy or perhaps because more than twenty-six years, stood for a moment dumbfounded, but then just looked at me straight in the eyes allowing me to see the film of tears covering his dark irises, shaking me for a moment, and said, -Geet I guess! And this notebook is yours? -
It was my turn to get banned. I had given him against shouting but the tone used by him was almost ecstatic.
-You assumes well. But that would not be the right course to bring objects of others-
-In fact, I have not bring anything.
I found this note this morning here on the floor and I peeled, nothing more. -
-It seems a little thing this? -
-Of course not. I'm writer by trade and I know how important are words, especially if they are straight from the depths of emotion ... and this are strong enough to be revenue arrogance inside me. -
At that moment I did not know what to say or do, I did not have no time because he overwhelmed me with compliments, questions and compliments yet. He even asked if he could use some of my poems in his new book.
I was overwhelmed by his enthusiasm, his manner, so much so that I found myself spending a few hours with him without even realizing it, he even managed to snatch a consent to his invitation, he had proposed to meet again the next day in the park itself, it would take me a draft of his new book, and he would ask for an opinion and some advice. I was flattered by the proposal as all the praise and attention he had given me in the morning for a few hours, I was not either a robot or a chest with too much emotion .. I was right, I probably accepted for this.
After we said goodbye after a few hours of euphoria, almost trepidation, but soon guilt peeked.
How could I have made an appointment to someone else in our park?
What right had I to be happy?
How could I do this to my love?
How could I make space for happiness in my life when his was cut short so abruptly?
How could I live serene when he was not living at all?
I wanted to call the boy with whom I had an appointment, but I realized that I had not even asked his name, much less the phone number, so in spite of the anxiety and guilt the next morning I found myself sitting on a park bench with some papers in my hand next to a person who knew my every thought most hidden and that I did not even know his name. I pointed this out and he seemed to fall from the clouds.
He began to tell me something about but because of the muggy heat stopped immediately after saying his name Maan to offer me something fresh to the bar.
We sat under a gazebo with our cold drinks in hand and we started to know each other, it was mainly a monologue because between the two of course he was the real unknown ..
That afternoon I discovered many sides of him, important things like his family situation, work etc. .. and most trivial things, such as his deep hatred towards the cat .

The time spent with him was magnificent, Maan was a bubbly person, cheerful, intelligent and loving life .. I remembered how I saw life before the accident.
Overwhelmed me enough to make me feel good, forget everything, even my guilt and my pain.
For this reason we also saw the following days, he had become like a balm to soothe my wounds, every moment spent with him was a bit like a little bit of heaven in my hell within, until I started asking questions.
We were talking quietly when he came out saying
-You always say that I already know everything about you .. but it is not true. I know how you feel and what you've tried, but I do not know why. -
I stiffened instantly. I had not thought about it and I gave for granted as he knew it all when in fact we knew a few weeks ago and despite having read my book I told him little or nothing of my life.
I thought about what I felt when I was with him, the bond that we had set up in such a short time, and I decided
- What is written in the book relates almost exclusively to my boyfriend ... - I looked at a fixed point on the ground, but did not see anything.
- We've been together for years, we loved each other, we also wanted to get married, we get engaged .. Everything was for the best, but one evening it was over, suddenly.
We went to the disco, I think that I had convinced him because he was that kind of people who did not like very much ... It was getting late and we decided to go home, the street was practically deserted but ...
one point a car came out of nowhere and we bumped into him. I remember the bright lights, the sound of screeching metal and asphalt, the violent impact, the sudden pain in the head, the smell of blood and then total darkness. - Begins to cry, not restrain myself and not even dry tears running down slow my face.
-When I woke up I was in hospital, covered in bandages, my head throbbing and the drip attached to my arm.
I began to remember the incident and tried everywhere my boyfriend, but soon broke my hopes by saying that he was died .. the ambulance had arrived too late. -
My eyes burned, tears flooded completely my features and keep me fully the view. Now not even held back the sobs came convulsive, strong enough to not let me breathe. I had to wait several minutes before I could speak again, or at least make some sound out of my mouth that makes sense and does not pay disconnected. -Since then there have been about two years, but the last poem I wrote was a few days before I met you .. -
He hugged me. Maan held me in his arms.
I did not try to wriggle, at that time I was not only defenseless, I had no forces, no support. I was going to collapse, in every sense, and he probably knew it.
He started stroking my hair, shaking vigorously without hurt. Only then I realized how small I was compared to him, he covered me completely and at that time he became not only my backbone, but also my shield from the world and suffering.

I cried for I do not know how long, as I was never allowed to do.
That afternoon, instead, I let myself go, reliving each scene and trying again all that torment, and I felt better. I had torn emotions from my being, I had lived, accompanied and paid up. Yes, I was tired, pull the skin, eyes burning and my throat was hurting terrible, but I was good, as in peace.
We were sitting on the park bench, I stretched out with my head on the lap of Maan while he caressed my hair again.
He had left me vent and comforted me, he had listened to the flow of my words and dried my ??tears, but not a single breath was out of his mouth. I was losing my beloved sunset because even if now the sky turned red I kept my eyes closed, curled up on the legs of the man who had overwhelmed me, lulled by his breathing and his caresses. Indulged that strange numbness experiencing a sleep-wake cycle when Maan began by saying:
-Life is strange, cruel at times. Not everyone has the good fortune to be, at least for a short period of their existence, really happy. All, however, happen to be really unhappy. To all happens at least one time hard to deal with, in which beautiful things to cling to are few, if not nil. But its periods, phases, and there is always a next step, there is always a turning point, a moment that changes every card on the table and takes you from hell to heaven or vice versa. It 's normal to get hurt, feel pain, because this is life: a set of emotions and is very colorful. Of course, the scars remain, but the wound heals. - He took a short break and after a slight sigh he asked me:
-Have you ever heard the saying "What does not kill you makes you stronger"? -
I understood where he was driving at, but I could not understand why he wanted to convince me. I told him what had happened, I had vented and confided in him, now he knew what I was thinking that how could he ask me to overcome it? How could he ask to forget?
I sat down suddenly, as if I had been burned by contact with him, shooting so fast that it created a slight dizziness.
-Of course I heard it ... and it's a clich, incredibly silly. -
But he did not seem surprised by my reaction or my words, he tried again my eyes and calmly said:
-Why do you think it would be silly? -
I did not even think of an answer, the words came out as a life of its own moves
- What does not kill you, make you in pieces, destroy you without the slightest warning, corrodes your soul at the point you never suspected even existed.
It does not make you strong. It nullify you.
You are an empty shell, a puppet of the expectations of others.
What does not kill you, forces you to live with infected wounds, impossible to cure, hidden under a shell as hard as a diamond but more fragile than glass.
It does not make you stronger ... it punishes you.
Because it does not kill you, but you die anyway.
Have a heart that beats is not to live, and I'm dead now since many times.. -
Once again he did not seem surprised by my words, which can I had really understood so thoroughly? But if I had really why he asked me to become stronger? Why would something so impossible?
-You are right. Have a heart that beats does not mean living. Emotions means to live, and you're alive. I find the myriad of feelings that you feel in your writing, in your tears, in the light of your eyes. The night of the accident you're not dead, you've got a second chance now you're wasting refusing to be happy. -
I moved back as if scalded, wounded. I was convinced that he had understood that he could see the sides of the deepest of my soul and not only because of my notebook, but apparently I was wrong. I was standing in front of him, again with eyes full of tears.
-How can I live if because of my fault he's dead! How can I go forward knowing that he can not do? How can you expect me to be happy? -
He tried to calm me, to hug me again, but this time I tore from him, ran away.
I wanted to get away, get away from the words of the man, but he was right behind, grabbed me by the wrist and held me whether, despite my attempts to oust him.
So I found myself crying in his arms again, but this time not only for the pain, I cried of despair, disappointment and pain.
-You have to go ahead even if he can not do, in fact, you must do it for him. You have to enjoy life and devote much happiness you can. Continue to blame you, imprison you, do not take him back to life. Wallow in your pain, lick your wounds but do not let that heal, hurt, and not just to you! Do not you think the people who love you? According to you, seeing you they do not suffer? Did you love your boyfriend, it's normal that you suffer for your loss: you have been ripped off suddenly, like happiness. It right that you're happy. The incident did not take place because of you, his death is not your fault, and you wrongly accused for too long.

Geet, please, really alive.
Be brave and fight for your happiness, not only for those who love you and who loved you, do it for you. You're holding your soul in a cage for too pinned, free her and enjoy life.-