A handful of sand...

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She had done the right thing, hadn't she? Anyone would approve of it. Anyone would vouch for the correctness of her decision. It was the right thing to do indeed. In fact there couldn't be another option.  

She knew he wasn't strong enough to ask. She knew he wanted her to release him. She knew only she could do it. Only, she wished, she didn't have to be the one doing it. But the futility of hanging on had become too obvious to be ignored. Hanging on to something, she really didn't have. Sometimes, she felt she’d rather have something than nothing at all, but the truth was, to have something halfway was harder than not having at all. It had been confusing to determine if the signs were there for her to give up or just a test to see how long she could hold on. Sometimes she felt they were friends, sometimes, she felt they were more than that, but of late, she had begun to feel like they were complete strangers. It was kind of weird how they had gone from being strangers to friends to lovers and now they were back to being strangers again. She wished they had just remained friends. Maybe then, she wouldn't have to grapple with this.

She was frustrated because she couldn't tell if it was real. She was mad because she didn't know how he felt. She was upset because she couldn't set it right. She was sad because she needed him by her side. She was angry because he didn't seem to understand. She was disappointed because they could never be together. It had become way too complicated. She didn't know where she stood in his life. It was like hanging in dead air, knowing she could be thrown off any time. She sometimes wished she had never met him at all, but at the back of her mind she was thankful that she had.

She wished he had told her how much he still loved her. She knew that he did. She knew the real reason was guilt. How could he say it was never love? Was the whole thing fake?  She knew that every feeling had been real, and every word exchanged between them had been true. Had he taken her feelings for granted? Did he not know how much courage it had taken for her to just confess her love? 

She wished she could put her thoughts in a jar. She had been thinking too much, over analyzing things. It had been getting too difficult to handle and she had been tired of going to war with herself. She was sick of being tired. She wanted to be at peace with herself. She wanted to be happy. The right step would be to let go. The parting had been amazingly smooth, and she was surprised at her skills of concealing her emotions and make it look like it was a given. But wasn't she the quintessential drama queen? He had said so himself!

And let go she did. There was no point grasping that handful of sand. It was better to let it slip through.

Then why was she hurting all over? Did doing the right thing always hurt? Every cell and nerve of her body was numb with pain. There was a void somewhere, like a vacuum, trying to suck out her very breath. Why was there that void? If she had been right, oughtn't she be happy, oughtn't she feel free? But here she was, standing alone, tears streaming down her face, a blanket of sadness covering her from head to toe and invisible cuffs pinning her down. It bled her soul, and left a tear, but probably some day the scar would heal. He did seem to be happy, didn't he? He had even said, they could always be friends. She knew she didn't want to be friends. Not with him, not with anyone else.

Maybe someday she might learn to trust again. Trust someone who wouldn't hurt her. Trust someone who wouldn't leave her aching. Trust someone who would fill that void in her being and in her heart. Trust someone who wouldn't be scared to love her back.

Or probably not.

 That place was already taken, and she was not sure anyone else could ever fill that space.