The Old Journal

“Dressed only in a loose grey tank top and red hot-pants she slid into the bed next to him, tying her hair into her signature imperfect bun. The evident frown on his face objecting to even this piece of clothing…”
She closed the black thick bound diary letting out a sigh. The further course of events was something she knew by heart. The food delivery person had rung at the same time ruining their perfect moment, as he had said later. This had been ever since their most laughed at incident. But she wasn’t aware until yesterday that this had made it to his journal.

“Hello ma’am, sorry to disturb you at this hour of the day. We have found this journal in one of the cupboards. Here”, the peon from Jai’s office said handing her a brown package. After closing the door, she had spent rest of the day reading his journal and cried fresh tears of sorrow. It had been a set of their happy memories.

“I want to grow old with you
I want to die lying in your arms..”

Another round of tears had followed when she had read the lyrics of their favorite song at the bottom of every page in the journal. She had dozed off on the couch itself thinking about the good old times waking up the next morning and randomly opened the journal again to this fraction of their favourite memory.

She switched on the TV, every channel showcasing the recap of the bomb blast happened six months ago loudly screaming about the toll and the loss. But it didn’t speak of the broken hearts and families. No more tears escaped her eyes. She kept staring at the TV, her thoughts elsewhere. If only she had not agreed for him to leave that day. The very day when she had wanted to declare their love to the world, it had died the same day. She tried but no tears escaped. Even tears get tired sometimes. But sometimes pain does not have an expiry date. It stays but not visible to everyone every time, quite like an attention seeking pimple which turns to become a mole, staying there becoming an inseparable part of you. The numbness of pain seeping into the deepest corners of your personality of which you can never really get rid of.

She switched off the TV and got up instantaneously like a robot to make herself a cup of coffee and another memory trickled down her eyes.

I am taking part in The Write Tribe Problogger October 2017 Blogging Challenge

Prompt: Put your iPod on shuffle/turn on the radio to your favourite station. Write a post using the song as your prompt

Write Tribe

11 thoughts on “The Old Journal

  1. So many lives are unnecessarily destroyed. You so rightly said we remember the events but not the pain of those who live on and whose lives were shattered. Beautifully written.

  2. Poignant play of emotions. Memories are amazing. They have the power to bring to life old thoughts, feelings and sensations. A good thing to relive happy memories and a torture to visit them in sorrow.

  3. Poignant piece. Pain sometimes doesn’t go away completely. It rears its ugly head throwing us off-guard. I hope she is able to apply a soothing balm over her painful memories.

  4. It’s one sad reality of this world..all the violence that leads to so many broken hearts and homes! Living life without the loved ones can be hell for those who survive. 🙁

  5. Was left with sadness in my heart as i reached the end. It is true that all that media coverage shows the loss in numbers and lives but no one cares about the broken hearts and families 🙁

  6. This is so sad and reminds me of the movie I watched on 9/11 based on a work of fiction. People get left behind to wonder at the why and pick up the pieces of their lives; takes them aeons to sort it all out!

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