This is how I spend my Sunday

I came across a wonderful post by Manali titled – “How do you interpret this picture“. At first, when I looked at the picture I just thought – “Oh snap! not another crybaby”. But when I read the post it was about interpretations – so my mind wandered. I haven’t played this game in while so I thought to myself let’s take the challenge and come up with my interpretation. So after about 30 odd minutes of jumbling lots of thoughts, here’s what I replied –

Photo shamelessly taken from Manali’s blog.

“Many are hurting for love, while many are suffering from a love that hurts”.

The picture simply depicts a heartbroken end – an end that deeply hurt someone. When we go through such experience it is not too uncommon to find ourselves wishing for a meteor to destroy the world *right now* and wipe us out of the existence.
In this case, too, the person who was hurt was deeply in love and have gotten betrayed.

The rose, beautiful as it is, has thorns too. It represents a character who simply has the most breathtaking and admirable beauty on the surface with some dark and terrifying secrets underneath. But like those thorns on the rose, the dark secrets can be known when you try to look at the person beyond the radiant beauty.

Some people do look beyond such dark pasts and accept the person unconditionally. It is not easy to say if the person is being foolish or best lover one can ever have. The dilemma is always there…ringing inside your brain or whispers falling into your ears. Yet, you gather strength and do what you want to do – love the other person with all your heart.

You understand her, she understands you. Or you think you understand her or she thinks she understands you.

And then the betrayal. Maybe the rose finds another bee or the bee finds another rose. “Maybe a guy with an Audi who is good to you 40% of times and acts like an asshole 60% of times.”

You were holding the rose safe in your hands and now you find yourself in such a shock that you involuntarily grip your hands harder and the thorn hurts you. But still the pain isn’t overcoming the pain that is in your heart. You want to scream. You dive into the pool and reach the bottom to let that scream out. Still the hurt is unbearable. “The shattering of a heart when being broken is the loudest quiet ever”.

Then you see a hope. The only way to reduce the emotional pain is the physical pain. You take that blade and cut your wrist. You cut your wrist to tell your brain that the pain from that thorn and that pain in the heart must be forgotten. But does it?

You have lost. Lost every sense. Lost every emotion. You die. Die inside. Broken. Shattered. Fade to black.

Disclaimer: This is work of fiction and any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Or is it?

Not exactly a masterpiece of art but had fun writing it rather than being lazy on the bed on a Sunday afternoon. Wait, wasn’t Sunday created for exactly that purpose?! *face palm*

Just being dramatic.