“A Monologue Which Speaks Depths”

I woke up to the alarm clock, just as reluctant as a teenager on a rainy Sunday morning.
First thing I did?
Even before jumping out of the bed
I dragged the notification bar down to inspect if there were unread texts from, uhm, friends. Facebook friends to be precise.
The day after was my accounts test and I was in no mood to take it. I locked the room from within and went on scrolling down the screen on Messenger. Oodles of texts on whatsapp.
Well, I had to be socially active for many reasons. Increased brightness of DPs and blurring of my acne. Just to look earthly. I was in my late teens. Now, it is obvious for an 18 year old boy, who treats studies as trivial things, to be online for long hours and fall for every beautiful face on social media. Not it’s not being disloyal to anyone. Just indulging one’s own self in special pleasures. My sin was, I was too indulgent a boy.
Just the night before, I texted a long message to, uhm, a girl. It was about how to not waste time and how to keep oneself occupied with things to do. Me talking about these, is, well, an irony. The message was inclusive of eating, sleeping, partying, dancing, singing, writing, drawing, listening to songs and aiming high. Maybe to impress. And every time I sent a message about my blog, to flaunt the littlest I know. And for very obvious reasons, girls topped my recent chat list.
Not a fuckboy, but, uhm, I guess it’s the same with every guy of my age? Suddenly I realized it was the 21st day of the eighth month and on 23rd, was your 17th birthday.
Not a pedophile, but I loved you a lot, till lately. But then people change, priorities change. Time destroys everything. Someone said that very morn, that we, uggghhhh, sorry, you and I should not have parted. “You moved on, because you wanted to”, were the words which rendered blisters on my epidermis. Because it was from someone close. I guess, that was the first time I realized, “love” wasn’t just a word after “I”, followed by “you”.
Everything was altered. I was a commerce student. Journal meant only a book of personal experiences. 14th Feb meant, just the 14th day of the 2nd month. Mind, and every app on my phone lagged. Maybe due to the low disc space.
Sexually explicit videos were in a large number. Photos of us. Oh, and yes Margot Robbie.
I sneaked into the washroom, and sobbed. Wept for long. Strolled out as if nothing ever happened. Realizing, I had lost you.
I always wished to fall in love, with love. But you had your episode of attitude and I had my novel of ego. I wished I had lost sanity and ran back in time.
Everyone has someone, everyone had someone. My cardiac muscle was weak. It was high time, I should have started straining my brain.
It was suffocating. Felt like muzzles clenched to the head held high, and brandished choppers unveiled, waiting to bathe in blood.
The bookmark still seems to be stuck at those pages of my diary. I wish I woke up again.

I guess, I was drowning in an ocean of feelings, when spasms of conventions paralyzed me.

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