This has already been posted on my twitter.
This is my Tribute to Vidushi.
Nisha is an amazing actress and she deserves more appreciation.
This is also for my friend Aimy, this is how I react to reading all our scraps again.
For moony and Shreya and all my Vidarth DT buddies, this is what a crappy precap does to me.
For Rae to tell her this is how my head works. Tissues advised!
This is how you lose her
You've all been there where I'm standing now, with eyes tainted a shade of bloody red from all the sobbing and sniffles and the head that pounds so bad that you want to scream for it to stop so that your throat feels as raw and stripped down as your soul.
But you don't.
You can't and you won't because it never makes the pain go away like a magical curse and it would make things worse.
They'd call you more names, adding to the already long list that was recited in your face.
And you watched through tear-filled eyes as he sat there with an accusing glare and asked you "How could you?"
And you just sit there and sob, telling him you wouldn't, watching your heart break, piece by fragile piece as he refuses to listen to your words.
Aren't they all lies anyway?
Your words are just as worthless to the world as the words they call you.
Hushed whispers, rumbling laughter and lewd gestures.
Part of you dies with every demeaning, sickening word that passes through their lips.
A greater chunk of your heart is torn away when he just sits there like a rock, doing nothing.
And then you wonder, is he really an angel or is his heart just made of stone?
Your questions don't answer themselves.
They never do.
By the time half a day passes, you attempt to salvage whatever is left of yourself.
You let your hair cover your face, the same face that's now accessible to anyone with an internet connection.
You loved that face once, you worshiped it in front of the mirror, you enhanced it with makeup and you captured it in images. Images frozen in time and memory.
And now you want to wipe it all away.
Now you can't even look at it without wanting to destroy it.
Rip it to pieces and let them fly away into oblivion.
It was vanity that got you into it, really. Stupidity played a role but it was a deep rooted narcissism and an urgent need to get what you can't.
That was what made you chase him in the first place.
Not anything else.
Especially not love.
And that it what you tell yourself.
It was not love.
Bitches can't feel love, can they?
Love isn't meant for girls like you, girls who aren't considerate and sacrificing and girls who don't give in to what is expected by the society.
Love isn't for people who lie through their teeth and twist their words.
Love isn't for people like you, who resent and repent and do the same thing over and over like they work on clockwork.
Love isn't for you.
And you pop your sim card into your old beat up Nokia phone and toss the smartphone into a bin.
You clear the phone-memory and Sd-card memory first though.
Like you wish you could clear their memories.
But not your own.
You deserve pain.
And so you take it.
Every word and every glare that you earn drills a hole in your heart.
But you take it.
Like the first class bitch you are.
They take the unfortunate Video down.
The dean has half a mind to expel you, but she doesn't.
Like always, she's all for making you face the consequences of your mindless,stupid and reckless action. (All in her words)
You are bound to agree.
Let's face it.
You did it to yourself, didn't you?
You deserve this.
It's not any closer to being different when the interminable day finally takes mercy on you and ends.
But the words don't end.
Nor do the lewd smses and offers.
So you switch your phone off, toss it into a corner, wishing you could do the same with your own heart.
Not heart.
Brain.
Beacause bitches like you don't have a heart.
That's what you repeat to yourself as your eyes refuse to close, scared of facing a dream worser than reality.
But then you decide to close your eyes.
It can't get worse.
You're at the depths of hell, you can't sink lower.
That's what he said.
You try to think of other things, scary things, hopeful things, anything except him.
But you are impaired.
He's the scariest hope you've nurtured for a long, long time.
And you can't dream of anything except him.
That's how you wake up, drenched in sweat and tears.
With no one to hold your hand or tell you it's going to be fine in the end.
Because it isn't.
It's not going to be fine.
And you are glad you can't lie to yourself anymore.
The morning is like a slap to the face.
The sunlight seems zealously enthusiastic.
You get ready in under five minutes for the first time in your life.
Because you can't look in the mirror for more than a second without wanting to smash it.
To smash your face to match your soul.
But that would just add to the list of names they call you to your face.
And so, you walk away.
They gawk and glare and ogle as you take your usual seat, desperately trying to hold onto a fragment of normalcy.
But there's nothing left to hold on to.
And so, you let go.
You bow your head down as you walk the halls you used to think you owned.
You barely open your mouth that was previously uncensored.
You won't look into anyone's eyes if you can help it.
Especially his.
Half your heart hates itself.
Half your hearts wonders what he thinks.
After all this time it wonders.
Does he ever wonder?
And this is how you lose yourself again.
In him.
This is how you lose yourself.
Now you are not even you anymore.
You are not that girl.
Remember that girl?
Well, this is how you lose her.
This is how you and her, both of you, fade.
This is how she disappears.
Becomes exacatly what she swore she won't.
Empty.
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