the waiting room

     Shards of  imaginations

      〈fictional truth〉


 

She hated anticipation. The gnawing and suspenseful feeling that was akin to holding her breath underwater with a stick prodding her side. Her phone was always on silent to take the edge off the anxiety. It was always placed screen down so that she wouldn’t check for new Whatsapp messages every time the screen lit up. She hated anticipation because she learnt that she wasn’t important to people, a feeling she tried to ignore. She was invisible and when she reached out to others the invisibility made its presence known. She had to sit with its noose around her neck and the gremlins of her mind taunting her over and over again ; ” he’s seen your message but you’re not important enough to be replied to. He’s playing it cool. Look at you being so desperate.” She tried dismissing the thoughts but that only fed them. Her frail attempt to silence her hostile mind backfired and eventually she just let it stream. She knew it was true. She knew that she wasn’t worthy of being treated decently.

Yet in a paradoxical twist, she sought what she thought she didn’t deserve. She wanted to be noticed,to be important,to be cared for – when deep down she was convinced that neither of these would ever fall upon her. It did boggle her mind at times. But the stormy confusion of emotions, oscillating between starry-eyed optimism and bitter cynicism, barred her from questioning herself.

What was the driving motive behind her hapless search? Could it be that –

Her ruminations were interrupted by the familiar vibration of her phone. The anticipation quickly dissipated and was replaced with disappointment at discovering it wasn’t the message she had waited 10 hours and 38 minutes for. She sighed and threw the phone on the other side of her bed, where it bounced off to the floor.

She returned to her thoughts where a question tugged at her to mull over; could it be that her missing shard of love was to be found exclusively within? Had she been looking in all the wrong places?

The phone vibrated once again from beneath the bed where it was relegated to and this time she knew that it was the message. But this time, she decided to ignore it and follow the trails of the absorbing question that awoke her curiosity.

Respond to the waiting room

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