FOUR WEEKS ON NEPTUNE

7

INARA
      Age 17

Archer says one should fall in love with either an artist, musician or writer atleast once in your lifetime. He claims it's a forever kind of love, that they trap your essence down through their words or art, making whatever you had eternal. I don't know about how I feel about that, about the concept of being loved so dearly, becoming someone's muse. Must be nice, a part of me screams and the other just shuts it down, slams the ideas down the floor and lights it to fire till the time it turns into ashes.

Fall in love, do that, fall in love with someone who could paint you for the history books, fall in love with someone who might decorate pages with ink talking about their degree of affection for you, fall in love and they could carve your initials in a tree. Love is easy to portray, to sketch a picture of and dance to the beat of, it's not hard to showcase this. Fall out of love, get hurt, show me a broken lover or a fixed one and I'll write you a tragedy. Fall out of love with an artist and you will remain forever, a different muse, maybe a tragedy, a saving grace that got lost in the pace, a star crossed love that got lost. In the worst or the best way but you will generate a different kind of forever.

Or do something better - don't fall in love. Dont give out the daunting and delicate pieces of your heart to someone, dont let them touch or caress your face, don't let their kisses fool you into a heavenly oblivion. And don't think you'll have a forever cause it breaks apart, it always does . It makes you sink, it turns your heart into a hollowed box and your chest into a soulless cavity, your body - a haunted mess.
Go ahead, be in denial, think they'll come back. Go ahead and think they'll apologise again, think their apologies will fix it all. Will it ? Will it or will the "God the things I'd do for one last hug" fix the burning hole they carved into your heart ? It's funny how love works, maybe I wasn't worth fighting for, maybe I wasn't worthy of a chance or to be loved in general. No matter the effort I put in, no matter the things I do to not fuck things up, I always end up hurt and alone.

Moments are like riptides, the closer you get to the water the better you see a riptide, the better you see its effects and the temporary hopes that it wouldn't resurrect. It doesnt matter if it's in a house or a home, a ocean or a shore, a heart or a soul. Words come with aches like splinters and drapes, a tornado unsung, getting a heart full of scrapes and the mending undone.

Story of my life, I guess.

Maybe I should get some sleep.

"Inara"

"Archer", I reply

"Are you okay?", he asked walking inside and sitting next to me.

"Yes ofcourse, what would be wrong?", I said laughing lightly, "I'm fine"

"No you're not", he said pointing his index finger to my cheek, "You're crying"

"Its nothing", I said, rushing my hand to hold onto the long sleeve of the sweater I wore and holding it tight with my fingers, picking my hand up wiping my face clean. I didn't realise it was this bad, "I'm fine"

He didn't say a word, he stood up, held his hands out and gave me a hug. The world has a ton of languages, hundreds of ways of expressing care and concern but this topped it all, we spoke without a language or words, we could be there for each other without saying a word. Maybe it's the fact that we resonate, we relate and get attached, maybe it's the fact that everyone who goes through any form of trauma speaks a different emotional 'language' that only we understand. Maybe it's the emotional standpoint, the way we relive and relate with every passing line.

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Here's chapter 7, I hope you liked it. Don't forget to vote and comment !

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Word count : 728 words

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