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Abi, I'm scared. -caption- To my Abi, How would

Abi, I'm scared. -caption- To my Abi, How would it be to sit next to you on a forlorn wooden bench too tall for our heights and swing our legs aimlessly? It's been 1 year and 8 months-- I haven't seen you. I haven't. My chest tightens as I build up dialogues to tell you how my life is. This room will probably run out of air by the time I complete writing this letter. Abi, I chew my nails. I do. So that I don't gnaw at words while talking to you. Abi, I'm nervous. How desperately I'd been craving to talk to you! How hopeless I was! Now that we've conversed after a considerable number of months which feels like one lifetime (No, not one-- darn), I feel collapsed. Reconstructed. It feels heavily good. Truly, it's overwhelming. I'm drowning! Something invisible pushes me into this abyss. I don't know if this is why they say to realise one's limits. Limit to happiness. To everything. I've grown really close toward you, though we've never behaved like best friends. Yeah, we haven't. It's like I'm wearing disguises upon disguises as I address you. Randomness screams it's throat out through me. Abi, I'm laden with an unpleasant feeling. I'm jealous. I'm possessive. When you told me that you've sensed a natural inclination towards Deepshi* (from now, I hate this name), my heart somersaulted in my chest. I can't bear to see you being comfortable with someone else, but deep down somewhere in my subconscious mind, a part of me wants you to find comfort in all ways possible. A part of me wholeheartedly wishes that you create the best of memories with 'your' people (if you have any). It does, I swear, 'cause it's you Abi. Let's put aside my negativities. I'll whisper cat songs in your ears if we ever meet. I want to spend time with you, only with you. A day or an hour? Whatever! Holy plans!
Abi, I'm scared. -caption- To my Abi, How would it be to sit next to you on a forlorn wooden bench too tall for our heights and swing our legs aimlessly? It's been 1 year and 8 months-- I haven't seen you. I haven't. My chest tightens as I build up dialogues to tell you how my life is. This room will probably run out of air by the time I complete writing this letter. Abi, I chew my nails. I do. So that I don't gnaw at words while talking to you. Abi, I'm nervous. How desperately I'd been craving to talk to you! How hopeless I was! Now that we've conversed after a considerable number of months which feels like one lifetime (No, not one-- darn), I feel collapsed. Reconstructed. It feels heavily good. Truly, it's overwhelming. I'm drowning! Something invisible pushes me into this abyss. I don't know if this is why they say to realise one's limits. Limit to happiness. To everything. I've grown really close toward you, though we've never behaved like best friends. Yeah, we haven't. It's like I'm wearing disguises upon disguises as I address you. Randomness screams it's throat out through me. Abi, I'm laden with an unpleasant feeling. I'm jealous. I'm possessive. When you told me that you've sensed a natural inclination towards Deepshi* (from now, I hate this name), my heart somersaulted in my chest. I can't bear to see you being comfortable with someone else, but deep down somewhere in my subconscious mind, a part of me wants you to find comfort in all ways possible. A part of me wholeheartedly wishes that you create the best of memories with 'your' people (if you have any). It does, I swear, 'cause it's you Abi. Let's put aside my negativities. I'll whisper cat songs in your ears if we ever meet. I want to spend time with you, only with you. A day or an hour? Whatever! Holy plans!
hemalathag0930

Hemalatha G

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