Dead Beats and Winter Things

She was fourteen when she fell for a boy who drew wolves. At that time, the love she offered had been an innocent one – probing but gentle. He took what she offered without understanding what it was and in her elation, she did not bother explaining. All that mattered was that he took it and it made her happy to be accepted.

She was fifteen when the boy who drew wolves broke her heart. She swore on that day that her heart broke a million times over leaving only a gaping cavity in her chest. It was then that she knew that the boy who drew wolves was the love that she wanted but not the one that she needed.

She was sixteen when she came to love a boy who drew castles. He asked her to help him court another girl and every day she found reasons to love him more. By and by, he fell for her as well and she thought she could come to love him as he needed to be loved.

She was sixteen when the boy who drew castles broke her heart. On that day, she thought she would be as devastated as before – that she would feel her heart shatter a thousand times over. It did not happen. Her heart only broke in half. It was then that she knew that the boy who drew castles was neither the love that she wanted or needed. His was the love that made her feel wanted and she mistook it as something more.

She was seventeen when she met the man who drew faces. This man had a habit of coming late so she took the role of the one who waited. At that time, she had nothing to offer him except for her youth and he took it willingly to his heart. As it went, he took her hand into his as well. Towards the end, she never did understand why he never asked for her heart but now she thankful that he didn’t.

She was nineteen when she broke the heart of the man who drew faces. She told him that there was no one waiting for him any longer. It was at this particular end that he finally asked for her heart. It was too late, to say the least. She realized that the love she had for him was not innocent, or wanted, or needed. The love she had for him had been a selfish one and it would have destroyed them in the end.

She was twelve when she met a boy who drew diagrams but she was twenty when she came to love him. It started when he asked her for a kiss and she had said yes. The kiss became more as time went by and she thought she loved him. Apparently, she was mistaken.

She was twenty-one when the boy who drew diagrams set her free. On that day, she watched her mother as she saw how broken her daughter was over a boy. She watched her father as he saw his little girl grow into a woman for the first time. In the end, she couldn’t make him stay but she was thankful that he didn’t. She could not love him the way he needed to be loved and similarly, he could not do the same for her.

She was twenty-one when she pursued a boy who could not draw. He was everything she never wanted. He was everything that she needed. He was, and still is, the boy who now holds a bag containing half of her heart. Piece by piece, he tries to put it back together by using parts of his own. Little by little, his heart and her heart have merged so that that no one could see where her heart begins and where his ends.

We don’t know where it ends. However, she was twenty-five when she kissed a man who drew plans. Ergo, the story continues.


About kyogakura
Bored 95% of the time.

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