I Confess, I Cheated

Do you know what it's like to cheat on someone? Someone you love very much? Someone who has done so much for you, someone who's presence is why you still exist and have some pride in yourself, some self-worth?
One day, everything seems perfect, like you have everything you'll ever need from anyone and the next, you have slipped on the (w)hoary edges and fallen into the icy depths of faithlessness. 


You know it's wrong and the first few times you even try to stop. The guilt eats into your very soul invading your every thought, every action. You can't stop thinking about all the good times you have had, the kind gestures, the joy and the comfort of just having someone to call your own. You can't stop evaluating if it's worth it, if it's worth giving all that up for a few moments of pure pleasure. But once you start, you can't but go on until thoughts cease to exist and only ecstasy prevails. 


But they say, acceptance is the first step to cure. 
I confess, I cheated.


I am married to Words and I cheated. 


It was just one time, one action. I had even forgotten the Pinterest password. I did not even have an account on Instagram or weheartit. I pooh-poohed their advances and used them for my convenience. I used them all to make Words happy. I made Words meet them too, in hope that every time I feel like slipping, I will remember the scene of both of them together and be assured of who was better. 


But alas, they did catch up with me; they lured me in with the indescribable beauty they radiate, a beauty that the secret, crappy photographer in me lusted after. They made me their unchained slave, they brought me to my knees and do their bidding without so much as a bad internet connection... so much as 300 repins in a day. I became a junkie, I was out of control. Looking at beautiful photos from all over the world, funny quotes and out-of-this-world food porn till my battery drained out. No amount of control could stop me from getting out of bed without atleast 20 repins from Pinterest. I craved for Instagram's attention; I started taking pictures like a maniac on weed, JUST to impress her. I even pinned and hearted at the same time. 


Words never said a word. I'm sure he knew, which only made it worse. Slowly, I started making excuses to Words. I said, "I am busy with assignments, I need time to sort things out." Then I started outright lying, "I don't like your new interface, there is a general lull, none of my friends are here anyway." He still never said anything. Every time I opened Blogger, I felt the acidic guilt and the painful sadness of a relationship once cherished. And every time I turned away and went back, coward that I was.


Today, I scrolled down my baby with no intention of posting anything, when the archives' count caught my attention and screamed out at me all the abuses that Words refused to say to me. Words always kept faith in my love, never asked for anything in return. And somehow, like a bolt of lightning, sense prevailed while I realized where my true loyalties lie.


I might slip, I might fall. 
I might even go several miles on the wrong path. 
But I will always come back to you, my love.
For I'm married to you.
And I married you for a reason.


I'm sorry for all the hurt.
I promise to write and make it go away.
I promise to make it up to you any way I need to.
For I know you deserve much better.


I love you, Words.
Always did. Always will.


P.S: This was whimsical, to say the least :D
P.P.S: I know a picture says a 1000 words but without those words how does the picture intend to convey it's beauty to all and sundry? I became a picture junkie for a while but now I'm back where I belong :)
P.P.S.S: This is one way of making it up to Words, not using any pictures for the post :P

Letting Go

I hold onto the railing, not very tight though. The scene below mesmerizes me... True, the view from the heights is beautiful, breathtaking. I see twinkling lights, all but ants to me, whizzing along with their own agenda, to their own time. The wind whooshes through my hair, making me heady with feeling, filling my lungs up with pure, unadulterated euphoria. 


I wonder. What it'll feel like. To let go. To feel the hurt, the pain, the desolation. To have darkness creep in and rob my ability to feel happy, to smile. To let go of all that kept me safe, all that I love and find comfort in and plunge unto the crevasse that sucking me in slowly even otherwise.  To have my brains splattered all over the pavement. 


Then I laugh at my own brainlessness, how will I feel when I don't got no life?  


But then, you know what will be worth it? The split second that I'm whooshing down. The split second in which my whole life supposedly flashes across my mind's eye. The swift flash of my lithe body down the side of the building that will make my eyes water, I'm sure that's the closest I will ever get to flying. I'm delighted at the thought. 


I can almost see myself, body prone on the asphalt, limbs askew, my new Levi's Curve ID splattered with my own B+, the smile on my face; can you smile in death, I wonder?  Maybe they'll have an investigation, maybe they'll bring in Beckett. Maybe Richard will come too. 
HAH! I have been wasting too much time on the telly. Time that I should have spent planning this better, I think.


I contemplate once more, all that I am leaving behind. Its a raw deal for I can see their tears of shock and desolation, I hurt inside for them, for the pain I will cause to them. I know I must have done something right to deserve that much. But the raw deal is a done deal for me. What must be done, must be done.


Deep breath. 
Clammy hands.
One last look down.


Letting the cold metal go. 


The whoosh never came. 
I look back up, shivering with the impact of what I was going to do. 
I see your face. 


"I'm never letting go, even if you do."


P.S: I have NO clue what this is all about.