"𝑰𝒇 𝑰 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏"
☆.｡.:★.｡.:☆
"Why do you avoid meeting my eyes?" His voice came out as an inaudible whisper, hi...
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“The little things? The little moment? They aren't little ”
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What are expectations?
Strong beliefs that something we desire will happen?
We expected way too much.
Expectations can kill a person, brutally, can break a person like a shards of ice, can ruin their ability like a wet painting on canvas, can destroy them like a storm.
Yet then again, expectations help us to live, but are they really expectations?
Can't we call that hope?
Someone cherishes their desire by anticipation, wanting their desire to turn into truth, they tie a thin thread of hope with their desire, preventing that thread from breaking, because if the hope is broken then a person can break too, no one will be able to join those broken pieces again.
Mishka is here, sitting on the bench in the same corridor, with an invisible thin thread of hope tied around her little finger.
Hoping that, that flower named Kairav will come again, will cross this same corridor again, will talk to her again, to drop her again, to just meet her again.
But he didn't come, neither yesterday, nor the day before yesterday and it seems like he won't come today either.
It's been two days since she saw him, that flower or the bee? Who chose her?
No, bees can hurt you, not the flower.
He is a flower, she is a bee.
She chose him, not the other way around.
Did he already forget about her?
Was it that easy for him?
Then why is it not the same for her? Why is she even waiting for him? She can go to her class by herself, she knows the route.
An inaudible sigh left by her mouth, her lashes curtain down touching her cheekbones, her fingers playing with strings of her Kurti, the monsoon breeze dancing with the rhythm of her open long hairs. The environment is peaceful with the soft whispers, occasional shouting, hustle of students roaming here and there, no one bothered to ask about her, she didn't mind though. Less human, less problems.
Humans are very complicated, tangled with their own emotions, constant whirls of their feelings are moving in their heart, thousands of moods, and intelligence present in their sharp minds.
Some use their sharp mind in crime while some use them to ruin the crime.
She met humans, after a very long time.
Real humans, not the beasts under the skin of human beings.
How ironic that we connect each and everything? Mishka frowned at her own conceptions, she was doing the same.
