Left with half a heart – #HalfGirlfriend

This is the story of a beloved friend of mine who knowingly lost the most precious man she ever knew. Her name is withheld for obvious reasons and the other two characters in her life have been given fake names. Hope you find her story to be agonizingly painful, just like I did.  

  

Pain pierced through her like fire licking her nerves, she stayed still for more than a minute and that disconcerted those in her company. James, her brother’s best friend since childhood and her unsolicited crush. He sat there in all his glory, with a dusky beauty on his arm and basking in new found love. Clearly, he had moved on or she had become insipid. She blew her chance with the one man she cared about because she never had the balls to consecrate their relationship.  

Sleepless nights of wondering what they were and if it could remotely turn into something more were incinerated to nothing. She chose to remain devoted to being his half girlfriend although countless scenarios played through her mind. Now, she could cross it off the list as there was no more a significant ‘other’ to begin with. Her blanket of joy and comfort was stripped. Nothing would come close to the feeling of Jimmy‘s arms around her. He was no longer her human shield laced with love and ferocity. The dam of tears will break free and there would not be a single soul to wipe a drop away.  

James Woods was man of honor, full of life and so much love to give. He was there for in her when she was in dire need of a shoulder to cry on, drowning in misery. A shield of protectiveness when her own brother had abandoned her. He was there to catch her fall, he was the one who pieced her family back together when all went to shit. The bridge between her wretched brother, Anthony and her bastard self. Why did he blame her, she had no idea! Their father was the one who opted adultery over a beautiful family he could have saved and cherished. When blames were being thrown around like dodge balls, Jimmy was always there, her half-boyfriend and the silver lining.  

Years of having indulged in a half relationship, she never once stopped to appreciate the bond she had with the exquisite man. He was a giver and she just gobbled everything he had to give. She had been his half girlfriend and she soaked in the comfort of that thought. The solace of his kisses and words were no longer hers to bear. Having beheld the sight of another woman fortified in his warmth shattered her soul. Alas, she had been as blind as a bat.

“I am sharing a Half relationship story at BlogAdda in association with #HalfGirlfriend” 

 

 

#9 3WW – Abandoned, Babyish, Cunning

This week’s writing prompts for Three Word Wednesday are:

Abandoned, adjective: deserted, forsaken, cast aside/off; jilted, stranded, rejected; informal dumped, ditched, unused, disused, neglected, idle; deserted, unoccupied, uninhabited, empty, uninhibited, reckless, unrestrained, wild, unbridled, impulsive, impetuous; immoderate, wanton.

Babyish, adjective: childish, immature, infantile, juvenile, puerile, adolescent.

Cunning, adjective: crafty, wily, artful, guileful, devious, sly, scheming, designing, calculating, Machiavellian; shrewd, astute, clever, canny; deceitful, deceptive, duplicitous, foxy; noun: guile, craftiness, deviousness, slyness, trickery, duplicity; shrewdness, astuteness.

Fingers tugging at your hair,

seamless, needy, fragile,

the pads revelling rhythmically,

a cocoon of comfort,

abandon the night terrors,

bloody punches and purple bruises,

close your eyes,

think of me,

I am right here, darling,

focus on my fingers,

encase your babyish face,

kissed by the sun

beneath the sporadic clouds,

hear my sweet song,

lull you to sleep,

know peace, my love,

you are safe,

away from the cunning hands,

no one can hurt you now,

you are safe, with me.

This post is a part of  Three Word Wednesday (3WW)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Awesome and crazy times with my kid brother – #MagicOfWarmth

Siblings can switch from Lucifer’s spawn mode to momma’s little angel in a split-second. Only you know their true form and trying to expose the truth to your parents when you are the oldest sibling will do you no good. Having to deal with their stupid tantrums and tattle-tale tendencies can be morally strenuous. My kid brother is 17 and I am 23. It is an understatement if I say we have got issues. As I think back to those simpler times, it was just him that I had to deal with. When it came to physically eliminating the threat and by that, I mean interminable days filled with bickering, arm-slapping and telling on one another. With an age gap of six years, mum and dad were never surprised when each one of us individually approached them with complaints. Mostly, dad would shrug and ask me to cut the little guy some slack, much to my agitation, of course.  He would soon be met with a string of whines like – ‘This is so unfair.’ Or ‘he started it!’

To be honest, we fought over the most stupid things in the world. Then again, we wouldn’t be siblings if we didn’t. The primary reason behind every fight would be food. He always depleted the chocolate stock from the freezer and not to mention cartons of fruit yoghurt which he manages to nick from my share! Although mum divides our share of anything she bought for us from the supermarket, he always found my hiding spot and ransacks it. Throwing a tantrum after such a situation wasn’t uncommon in our household and especially when he touches my leftover portion of KFC or Pizza! All hell breaks loose then and mum knew better than to stoke the dragon, so she carefully concealed my share in a safe place only she knew where.

Baby brothers are total snitches, but we know that all too well. Growing up, we had strict parents which kept us both on the edge. My dad was quite the baddie when it came to shunning contact with boys. Not that I cared too much because I wasn’t the one to look for a serious (ridiculous) relationship in high school! I had guy friends, though, and it would pose a problem when they called me on the home phone. Yes, that was a time when I didn’t own a cell phone like most kids at school, hence, the landline addiction.

However, did I manage to lull my rage when my brother threatened to tattle about my phone calls to dad, I don’t know. But somehow, we ended up making deals with one another. Most of which involved him getting my larger share of chocolates. Eventually, we found our middle ground – Lord of the Rings trilogy and Harry Potter saga marathons. That was the foundation of our peacekeeping treaty. Even today I grin when I reminisce about our countless vacations when we repetitively watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy, much to my mother’s torment.

Our magic of warmth moments comprised of innumerable movie marathons and sizzling butter popcorn. Occasionally, we would swap the popcorn with leftover chicken soup but what the hell. We would forget the sibling rivalry and revel in the warmth of the blanket fort. It was worth every minute of my time. In times like those, I realise that I love that little hammerhead of a brother!

I’m blogging about my #MagicOfWarmth moment at BlogAdda in association with Parachute Advansed Hot Oil

#8 3WW -Jockey, Kindred, Lopsided

Hey guys! I have been such a lazy bum lately that I didn’t even have the decency to grace you beautiful people with a new year post. So please bear with me as I rope you all in on my new piece for 3WW. It is felt sufficient to write and hope you lovelies like it. Cheers.

This week’s writing prompts for Three Word Wednesday are:

Jockey, verb: manoeuver, ease, edge, work, steer; compete, contend, vie; struggle, fight, scramble, jostle.

Kindred, noun: family, relatives, relations, kin, kith and kin, one’s own flesh and blood; kinsfolk, kinsmen/kinswomen, people; adjective: related, allied, connected, comparable, similar, like, parallel, associated, analogous, like-minded, in sympathy, in harmony, in tune, of one mind, akin, similar, like, compatible.

Lopsided, adjective: crooked, askew, awry, off-center, uneven, out of line, asymmetrical, tilted, at an angle, aslant, slanting; off-balance, off-kilter.

 

Kindred minds,

shared lopsided smiles,

now jockeyed into

each other’s hearts?

This post is a part of Three Word Wednesday (3WW).

 

 

My Jug – #DearZindagi

“Life is an awful, ugly place to not have a best friend.” ― Sarah Dessen

459 friends on Facebook.

344 followers on twitter.

185 followers on Instagram.

Numerous contacts online on WhatsApp.

But there is only one friend who listens to my rants at three am in the morning and that ‘four am’ friend is Pooja Sathyanarayanan.

She is tall, geeky, bespectacled and has just the right amount of crazy in her. A psych grad who manages to squeeze boyfriends, workload and resolving my problems with magical solutions which help me liberate my emotions into her ultra-busy schedule. It may seem like a simple deed, but to be there for someone in time of their need is beyond anything you can hope for.

I have a nasty habit of verbally abusing people and underrating them constantly, just to keep them grounded. They don’t seem to realize the healthiness of the act and they fail to see that I reserve that kind of love for people I like. Pooja is mostly entertained by new ways I discover to abuse her and she laughs it off with a fake ‘ha-ha’. The best quips largely revolve around her ginormous frame and how uncomfortably bony her shoulders are that you can’t lean on them during desperate times.

Though it physically hurts me to say this, her levelheadedness and tranquillity serve as a voice of reason in my most desperate times. She is my one stop solution for all my psychological therapeutic needs. I have no qualms about sharing my deepest and darkest fears and insecurities with this nut head. In a sea of judgmental and derisive people, she is a refreshing breath of genuineness. Isn’t that what we all crave, a friend who doesn’t judge you and accept you for who you are! Someone who is always there for you and embraces the madness and blasphemous culture with your influence.

This child of joy has been torn from my arms and cast into the chasms of the fiery pit called the U.S. However, she is having the time of her life, partying all night long and carving pumpkins for Halloween. I remember urging her to “see the world” because my maternal instinct kicked in and I couldn’t help myself but sound like a total mom. This is an appreciation post for my nerdiest pal, Pooja (and belated happy birthday to you, love). She is the sanest person I know, just a year older than I am, someone, who doesn’t shy away from trying new things, a daredevil in her own way, a fierce friend, and MY JUG. I love you, you wolf in sheep’s clothing, for being my jug for the past five years and having the heart to not quit being so.

 

I am writing about Jug in my life for the #DearZindagi activity at BlogAdda.