Some tales are worth being left untold. Like really! Ask a fifteen year old kiddo about his girlfriend, and I am assured you are going to find that the kid's face either lights up like a Christmas tree or is rather drowned like a drooping flower in the scorching sun.
Well, isn't that precisely what one's life gyrates around? Unspoken set of words that could have been one day, framed into a striking sentence and win somebody's heart or take it all away with the slight conviction left in you? That is closely the kind of person Rhea was. Her diary spoke way clearer and straighter than her. Obviously it did for she was frozen. Wait, wait, wait. You think she could write and read properly even when she was sick? Yes, she did. And here is an excerpt from her little notebook that holds endless stories of bravery, strength, weaknesses, downfalls, and most importantly, her success stories. Here is an excerpt from Diloritta.
"Heyy. I am back. Like my back is still on my back, but I am back. Never mind, you always have my back! Well, that is one new thing Miss Kashre taught me today. She is our new English teacher, and believe me she weaves magic with her words! And she is beautiful as well, like the ones you see in the movies.
'Let's get straight to the point. I saw him yet again today. The same person with the same tinkle in his eyes. How can he not change even a bit? Not even an inch? He still scrolls up his sleeves like Keanu Reeves would do. He still talks like madmen about cars and Hamilton and Vettel and Grand Prix and still makes prototypes of cars he so wanted to drive back then. I am pretty sure he still wants to drive them. And his dreams? There were so extraordinary, like they still must be. And this very day? I again stumble upon an evocation from those days of utter agony and glum. He would barely ever make it into a smile. No wait, let me re frame my finding. He would barely ever make it into a smile with me.
'I still wonder what went off beam when everything appeared so dead-on. Our beginning was so brilliant. Starting from the dreamy recitations of dialogues from The Fault in Our Stars to gifting mirrors on birthdays to look into when low to failed shots of neck kisses and landing up kissing on my curls to imagining about a lifetime laden with moments of passionate adoration, of love. And yet all of it ended as if a fling.
'I don't know why I keep walk past those uncared and filthy streets just to be wafted away by them, as I once had had to façade. I don't know how to keep myself back. Or maybe I do and don’t want to accept and try it on?"
The last night I had been to her house, and all she spoke was of him. She had met anyone of the kind of ‘love of her life’, and she still, was so fresh and admired. I almost heard a laugh, a blue giggle in her voice, as if something had hit her back, something she hardly wanted to give a sermon on.