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  • Email: nitrogue@gmail.com
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A Story of She and He

 

She was childish. But yet, when time permits, and when time requires, she becomes matured.

 

She loves playing with her hair and doesn’t really care about the way she looks, or how her hair looks. She knew she looked beautiful in her own simple way.

 

Sometimes, when I sit and talk with her, we can talk on and on about things and we won’t realise that we have reached our destination.

 

And sometimes, when we have nothing to talk, we enjoy each other’s silence.

 

The most beautiful thing about her is the way she laughs. How her nose perks up, and her eyes become small, and her dimples are clearly seen. She let’s out this happy loud laughter, like as though, someone who’s sad is laughing for the first time after such a long time. 

 

It’s a genuine happy laugh. It’s infectious.

 

And I love it.

 

I also love the way her hair drops onto her forehead, obscuring her right eye and she doesn’t bother to brush the hair off.

 

And her eyes. She has the most beautiful eyes ever. They depict sadness and sorrow and yet when she’s happy, the eyes do a favor and light up. They’re full of stories to tell and sometimes, I wish, i had the courage to look to her in her eyes and just fall into them as they whisper to me their sad stories.

 

She loves the wind. The way the wind makes her hair flow as the soft breeze embraces her hair. She looks really beautiful when that happens. It’s a moment, I feel, if i were a photographer, i must capture.

 

Sometimes, when we sit together, next to each other, and occasionally her arms bump into mine, I love the way I feel her arms, so warm and soft, and sometimes, I always control the urge to put my hands into her arms and fall asleep on her shoulder.

 

I love the fact that she enjoys making a fool of herself. And the most beautiful part is when she laughs about it.

 

I also love it when she gets angry. The way she defends me, or herself in a situation. She takes charge of it, and she fights till the end.

 

But today, she failed to take charge. Today, she’s getting married to a wealthy rich guy from London.

 

But the one who has failed the most is me. I failed to tell her things that I’ve always kept bottled in my heart. I was afraid of losing her as a friend.

 

But I forgot, in friendship there’s love and in love, there’s friendship.

 

Today, he will hold her arms and have the honor of lying on her shoulder. He will have the honor of playing with her hair when the wind blows. He will also have to make do with her sense of immaturity and her anger.

 

I’ve met many women. But none are like her. And today, she’s getting married.

 

***

 

I’ve never met someone quite like him.

 

He’s not that good looking, but I find him adorable. The way he’s not shy when he’s around me. He’s a klutz i tell you.

 

But he listens when I talk. And when he talks I listen.

 

I love the way he looks at things, the way he thinks. He’s imaginative, creative, but most of the things he thinks about are always out of the box, out of the ordinary.

 

I love the way when he defends himself, feels bad when he sees me carrying too many things, and when he tries to help me carry a few things. He’s really sweet.

 

There was once, when we were in the bus, he was snoring and when he woke up, he asked me, ‘”How’s my hair?”.

 

He’s stupid. But i love him. I love him for his stupidity.

 

There’s nothing great about him, and yet, he keeps telling me that he would be someone great. It’s a silly dream but I love him because he’s hopeful.

 

I’ve never met anyone as optimistic as he is. 

 

Sometimes, I get confused if we’re just good friends or two people in love. And many times, I think we’re two people in love.

 

And I doubt if he loves me. Because if he did, he would have told me.

 

Today, I’m getting married. I’m going to miss his presence, his laughter, the way he made me laugh, the moments we laughed together.

 

I also miss the moments I cried to him and how he keeps telling me that things would be okay.

 

I would miss all that.

 

But I guess, he never saw me as I saw him. How can there be love in friendship? Friendship and love are two different things I suppose.

 

I’ve met many men. But none are like him. And today, I’m getting married.

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