"A few seconds ago I got to know, the mask of happiness that you are wearing, is freaking lie. There is so much dirt hidden behind it. Dirt of pain. I can smell it. The gesture that you gave me today and the glance that I returned you in its answer, were talking posthumously when we were not bothering about each other's existence.
Well, I must say our loved ones tell us undiscovered reality of life and people. They think, they are protecting you; because you are and will always be a child to them. They are no wrong in it. Loved ones usually do that. Even I have done it, those were not many. But you have got your own mind. You have got your own self. Half-truth is never a truth. Half-truth is a whole lie. You better be the real you. Who smiles no matter what. Who laughs on tiny little things. And dearly irritates me sometimes.
One day I was sitting alone there in the darkest night of my life. What I saw, a ray of hope. I wanted to hold it tight that it might never left my side. I picked my phone, wiped my tears; those were warm, you know. And I did not call my father. I wanted to hug him tight. It stays with me till now.
So what I am saying is, don't trust me. Don't do good to me. And don't become me.
But I don't wear mask. Never, when I am with you. And that is my truth."
Those half burned letters are the only treasure she has now. She took her time which he never had. She loves him now, he loved her forever.
Picture credit: A known 'Painter'
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© Snehil Srivastava