Fictional World

The Heart (Short Fiction)

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The Heart

The heart of an unapologetic person is like the throbbing war drums, except when we place this heart at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, right next to Titanic, it just beats along the way to its demise. All kinds of emotions are ready to kill themselves inside the body of such person. There is no mercy for irrefutable judgments from double-dealing people that are naturally prescribed to ruin someone’s relationship by false descriptions and rumors!

You know I was able to hear the echoes of your silence! The false alarm was so loud that not even the 707 could calm my hunger down. I admit that those shameless attempts were psychopathic and torturous. If I had been fed by the words you were being fed by me, forcefully, the method of treatment from my side would have been way cruel. So, I understand your impulses, trust me, I do, I really do.

The unapologetic people may beg for your time, may try talking to you a lot but those people will never beg you to be theirs. You might label such people as ‘cold-hearted people’. Well, you’re wrong. Their hearts are as pure as the air you breathe in, as beautiful as a young yellow sunflower blooming in the spring season and as bright as Vantablack. But you know it very well that your long hair is not going to cover up that red neck, boy!

The failure from my side to respect your choices is what I regret the most. I wanted you to know me and I was desperately seeking your validation even though you didn’t ask for any of it. But the beaker is bleak now, I don’t see any chemicals in there that can take us back to those cute and funny texts, also, those lame puns, absolute trash. The remains of the waste gas in your lab are still suffocating me.

You didn’t deserve any of that. I know you didn’t deserve desperation in exchange to your unironical attempts to make me smile. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have given someone hundreds of chances if I were you. You know I would still be saying sorry if I hadn’t overused those sorries before. I had always felt connected to you in some weird ways even though we didn’t know anything about each other. Well, I am sure I will miss that smile on my face on my birthday.

Now that you know what this is about, the unapologetic people tend to go on a hunt so as to catch their prey because they are usually hurt by the people that are very close to them. Their happiness is never real. But you weren’t thinking of playing with the people who are already dead from the inside, were you? Remember, you should never make fun of the deads because what is dead today may never die. You know nothing, Snows’!

I had never thought our small unplanned event would turn out to be adventurous and violent at the same time. The day had no intention to bring you to our table. Please do not blame the day. It was a miracle and I know you had felt it. You had seen it coming all the way along as soon as you agreed to attend my small event. I know the story is still relevant in your head and you’re already thinking about giving it another shot.

Let’s say there were many forks and knives involved. The highest bidder was lucky to use the knife. But since the other bidders wanted to use their knives as well, they were attacking every highest bid with their forks. I had seen your desperate smile before you were trying to lay off the booze without presenting the bidders their meal. I will admit the pretentious ‘class’ that you were presenting to me after I placed my bid is unforgettable.

But were there any winners really? No, not really. You were the winner, you won it all. The smile you took your home the next day was everything I could have ever dreamt of. It didn’t change your life but it sure helped you to be positive about the life you were living in this cruel world without an end or beginning. But who are the players? They are starving nomads whose prayers are written in the song ‘The Hills’ by The Weeknd.

I hope you’ll be able to forgive me someday. Even though nothing is real, aren’t we all seeking easier ways to leave anyway, as if everything is real? If you are reading this, please keep this to yourself and do not respond to me. Let me feel the loss, let me suffocate and let me take this chance to improve myself so that the same junctures won’t repeat for someone else. Thank you, friend.

The ideal version of me would thank me for being a giver. A perfect world designed by me would reciprocate to the passion of mine, encrypted by the notion of giving more than I receive to be unexceptionally humble to everybody I see. If you really know me, you know the interactions we’ve ever had are never going to detoxify my blood. The ideal me would thank me for being welcoming and respectful.

It is time to see the apocalyptic version of me. The real world is oblivious to my definition of who I should be. My dishonest eccentricity fails to recognize my tenderness. The art of carving the skin and faking it as an obscene stretchmark is not a new thing for me. Your presence was a flawless facade, untouched by the emotions, unheard by the ears and unseen by the eyes.

The conjectures about my reality are all true. I’m sorry for the guilt you’ve been ‘living’ within your self-made purgatory. You deserve it, I am sorry but you know you deserve it. I can see you suffocating with the memories of us staring at the moon. Little did you know, my eyes were focused on me and on the pieces of my heart that you were used to stealing from me. But you know I love you. You know it is real. Rest in peace, my friend. Happy birthday.

Your life is an art and your art will always be here, with me, forever. There is nothing much to relate me with other than those empty lines which hardly explain what you stand for and what is it that you’ve been looking for. I wish the morality that keeps you objectively sane would try exploring the subjective resemblance that I see in us. Even though I am aware of the fact that I am not entitled to the things happening around me, I’m automatically obligated to the things happening around me.

It is easy for me to let go of someone that I really love. But nothing breaks like my heart when I fail to respect the person that I truly respect because the respect that I have for that person is constantly backed up by my needy behavior to get acknowledged. It was never in my personal interest to let you go. The ego of respect that I have for you is consolidated and is hidden behind the shadows of your uncompromising self-respect.

This made me breach the philosophy of my life which had been keeping me alive because not a single soul that I’ve seen or that I’ve been with has existed FOR THIS LONG in a dangerously empty world with me, except yours. Allow me to immerse myself into your art, into your charm, into your deception and finally into your soul. Allow me to believe that you are who I think you are and please always respond to me without really responding to me, like a star.

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