Of Fallacies And Fate

f i v e

That's what the world is, after all : an endless battle of constant memories' - Haruki Murakami.

[ f i v e ]

The soft ball bounced against the wall over and over in the deadly silence of the night in his room. Rayyan sat leisurely on the reclining chair, his hands working by themselves sub consciously catching and throwing the ball each time. His mind was preoccupied by an ocean of thoughts but all of them revolved around a certain someone. He closed his eyes as if that would help him pause the thoughts about her whirling in his mind, but of course to no avail. Rather her picture formed in his mind, her long hair swaying in the wind, the way he always liked her. Her hair falling free on her back because he could watch them sway in the air all his life. He sighed deeply. All this while he had tried to control his thoughts but he had let himself think of her after all this time and now there was no going back. Each memory of her replayed continuously in his mind. Memory of her, memory of them together. And now as he reminisced those memories, he was appalled how much he missed her, missed them together. He missed it so much that it hurt. But what could he do?

He would have to keep his cold act. Because things hadn't changed a bit and he knew that he didn't deserve her at all. Specially after all these years, the way she changed and became a beautiful independent woman, he knew that never in a million years he would deserve her or would be compatible with her. That was the harsh truth. It wasn't like all those heroes in those movies who despite of being good enough would tell the lady that they didn't deserve her. No, this was the absolute truth that he didn't deserve her. But would he change for her? Or could he change for her? He didn't think he would. It was just against his nature. She was so delicate, so fragile and he would inevitably hurt her, hurt her a lot. And he would hate himself if he would hurt her that way. Yes, maintaining this cold and frigid demeanour hurt her too but it would be far less than what he was capable of hurting her if they would be together. When did life get so messed up?

Was he himself complicating life that much, he mulled over that thought. Sometimes, he felt he was. But where would he be if he wouldn't over analyse everything, over think about any situation, he had to take the best route, he had to know about all the precautions, he had to. That was just his nature and that was how he was supposed to go on with life anyway, he thought. And between all this, not knowing where he was going in his life or having no satisfaction whatever he did, he couldn't involve her. Not with his attitude of being reckless, being not able to care much about the other person, he would just give her immense amount of hurt more than love.

She was too precious for all this, he thought.

Why did he think of her that way? Why did she have to be so special in his eyes. He couldn't even fathom the thought of her being hurt even a little. So much so that he was ready to torture himself not having the pleasure of being near her only for the fear that he would end up hurting her.

He noticed that the voices of fights, or what they subtly called mere arguments, between his parents had died down. They must've been tired of fighting with each other and went to sleep, he thought. He could never sleep each time his parents fought. His two elder brothers were accustomed to their parents behaviour but him being the youngest couldn't get accustomed to it. Each time they had a fight in front of them, each time they raised their voices in front if their children, each time they spat venomous words against each other, he was the one who hurt the most. The edges of their words cut deep into him and the wounds never healed. And even if they did heal, they left behind huge nasty scars which made him hide himself from everyone. He kept his scarred soul couped up inside and kept on a hard mask in front of the entire world. If his parents had taught him one thing for his life - it was that you could easily hate the one you once loved a lot. That in the end, it was only you and just you. There was nobody you could lean on. That concept just existed in fairytales and movies and fiction. And maybe there were a few cases in reality too, one in a million chance maybe. But he knew too well, that he wasn't one among those who had the one in million chance. He knew that he couldn't trust anybody with his heart nor with his soul. He would have to live life cold heartedly if he wanted to survive this wretched world.