Here is the first short tale of February. Every story this month, due to Valentine’s Day, will have at least an undertone of love.
A cool wind blew through a cracked open window. The room’s owner was not currently in the room but rather outside in the lush garden, enjoying the company of a treasured love. The breeze whirled through the room, just strong enough to blow open a well-used journal on the desk. The pages fluttered until the book fell open on pages from just a year ago, detailing great pain.
‘I give up. I can no longer do this. I can’t continue giving and giving and giving without ever receiving anything back. I can’t keep giving to you while all you give me is indifference or on a lucky day, hate. Every day, I’m crying on the inside even as I keep a bright smile on my face. You never noticed. All you saw was a classmate at best, an annoying presence at worst. You never even saw me as a peer, did you? No, that’s a silly question in which the answer is quite clear. You never did. I kept trying to gain your attention without annoying you, but it never worked.
Well, no longer. I’m sealing this part of my history deep in my heart, to never resurface and I am moving on. I don’t know what will happen in my future, but I know it will not involve you. You will no longer be bothered by me; I will no longer lose time devoting it to you.
Someday I will find someone who will love me the way I loved you. But it won’t be you.’
The pages fluttered once more, as if an invisible soul is reading, to just a few months before today.
‘He makes me so happy. I didn’t think it was possible to be so happy with another person. But of course, I didn’t. The last time my heart chose someone it wanted, it received little or only negative affection in return. But not this time. I give affection but he gives his back. I do for him, devote my time for him. And it is equally returned, if not sometimes more than I’ve given him. I’m always so careful though. If I feel like I’ve taken him for granted, I take time to devote to him, to pamper him. I’ve been in that bad place before; I do not want to do it to him. Not when he clearly loves me as I love him.
The amusing part of it all was that he noticed. After I decided to cut my losses and move on, he noticed. Apparently, it wasn’t the same for him without me in his face all the time. He tried to come to me then, and I will be honest, it was tempting. But I would always remember the tears I cried for him and stay strong, rejecting him as he had rejected me. And it’s paid off. I now have someone that loves me for me, and not what I can do for him; he returns my heart just as I return his. I am finally happy.’
With a clap, the light breeze slammed the book closed, as if it were upset. The wind disappeared, leaving the room untouched, as if no one had ever been there.
Except the journal that now faced the wrong way, that is.
Who do you think was reading the journal? Was it the wind or perhaps something, or someone, else??
See Y’all Later!
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