I opened the veranda doors, letting the harsh yet soft breeze slip through my slightly tangled hair. The night was fresh, young, alive. It always perplexed me how people couldn't find beauty in the moon. He would always mutter under his breath "I wish you looked at me the way you looked at the moon" and for the most scrumptious, exultant, vehemence time... I had. The way he spoke my name does not flutter my stomach anymore. The way his smile would discreetly materialize his soft lips; no longer fixated my eyes. How he would console me in his doting embrace, doesn't melt my heart like it once had. Like a pebble thrown to the sea, I fell and I fell hard. Too hard. I was so preoccupied by the engaging view that I was not prepared for the drop. Falling in love is like falling into water, you become immersed in it. Your body fills with it. All around you, you can see it. Then the realisation hits you, that you're drowning. I was so intoxicated from the feeling. The breathlessness of affection. That I had not realised that my love for him was in fact for love itself. Is it painful to love someone who doesn't love you back? Is it painful to be loved by someone you do not love back?
Yes.
He rested his feeble yet strong hand on my shoulder. I turned and hushed him at his attempt to speak. His eyes were like shards of glass, broken, glistening. His face, it was unspeakably morbid.
My voice was hard to find but unexpectedly strong when it levitated from my mouth,
"I just had A Change Of Heart"
