The Woman

She was sitting at her desk, browsing the recent posts on her homepage for Facebook. She saw a post summarizing a story of a woman who had been sexually harassed by her father for 12 years, then how she withstood the world living in fear, experiencing more traumatizing events in her life, even though it had a trigger warning, she read it.

Even  the world did not consider her a sexual harassment victim, she knew she had been harassed indirectly by the one she had loved. Maybe, that's why she read it, to know how a woman deals with all this, how a woman feels after it happens, how betrayed one feels, how afraid. It was so deep, it rocked her to her very core, she could relate to her fear. How she wasn't safe, maybe the world is like that, savage, but maybe it  is more for women, maybe not, but this was not something which could be solved by the provision reserved seats in trains, or education or anywhere else, maybe justice can be served after things conspire, but that justice cannot change what has happened.

What is the need for justice to be served? isn't prevention better than cure? Or is vengeance a bigger or more important trait than peace?

Well, maybe, peace is war.

Move On

He was sitting alone in his room, on the bed, using his laptop to (not) watch his favourite movie. As the feature moved along, he became restless, he could not focus on the movie to distract his mind, put his mind at ease.

He had texted her so many times, even chatted at length with her for 1 or 2 nights, but, still, it seemed that he wasn't piquing her interest. He knew for a fact that she liked him earlier, but now, zilch.

It almost brought a tear into his eye. It had almost been an year since he had asked her out. He was hoping to get her interested into talking with him, but nothing seemed to work.

He had not noticed the signs of her affection before, just thought that she was being nice. He had always thought from the beginning that she was way too out for his league, maybe that is why he didn't get the signs, maybe that or that he was too dumb.

He had fallen in love with another girl then, and when she broke up with him, by helping him move on, she had just moved on herself. But, then, why had she kept his number on her phone still, why after all this time?

Depression

People who are depressed resemble the heartbroken too much. That is why, we might sometimes mistake them for people who have been ditched by someone and some of us geniuses might think that mocking their 'crush' would make them overcome it.

Be'life'

I have changed. I have become 'mature'. Earlier, I used to believe in useless things such as destiny, love, feelings, oneness, togetherness, emotions and bonds. Now I believe in success, profit, work, career, benefit, behaviour, political correctness and the list may go on.

It's not that I have become depressed, or that I am weak. Weak people don't keep on trying until it's over, it's just that, I have given up, I have stopped believing, stopped thinking about destiny, stopped believing in chemistry, in people.

That kind of happens, when you try and try again to look for the good in people, look for the love hidden in them, look for something human left in them, and you lose. That happens when you believe too much and keep on trying, until your belief is nothing more than what it is, a six-letter word standing for a myth. Nothing more than a word, it just remains where it was, in your heart, in your body, in your soul.