I have a song playing in my head. I have lots of half-made decisions. I have a set of things to feel terrible about, and yet another larger set of things to look forward to. The phrase "I don't know" does not suffice to convey the state of total indecision that I am in. What I feel is a sense of triumph with a sense of loss; a flavor of emotional liberty and a tremendously powerful magnetic pull of guilt and reconsideration of decisions and emotions that is pulling me back into what I came out of- a deep, dark pit of fear. You will learn certain lessons in life and soon after, certain others that will make you disbelieve what you learnt to believe in so far. It is strenuous because there is no "Pause" or "Reset" button in this field of operation. If I paused for a second before I called the guy an "asshole", would I be feeling better right now? But then again, I didn't and I felt liberated for at least a minute. I felt like I shed a whole layer of skin- I shed every inch of what felt the yearning, the tingling, the goosebumps and those unfamiliar vibrations accompanied by a shortness of breath that his touch induced. His touch, I thought, could never deceive me. I thought the emotion behind his fingers running up my thighs, playfully reaching between them while I pursed my lips to resist saying anything except "Please, stop", was genuine attraction that the combination of my face and my ability to talk sensually, had induced; but as it turns out, his penis needed unloading, not his heart. His lips were not yearning for the touch of mine. He had all the women he wanted, but I thought I was the one he'd need. He told me a lot of things that pulled me even farther ahead into the darker reaches of the trap whose door had already shut behind me. He was like a form-changing liquid while I was (from the looks of me) an evaporating swirl of foam with its dented guards up. Inside, however, I was a hammered, sturdy piece of metal; but even metal melts when exposed to excessive heat. And then, one day, he finally took his shirt off. A glistening, perfect, well-moulded body called for my attention and while I beheld his beauty, I realised I had surrendered to his control with both my arms in the air and my clothes pulled off my body, apparently with consent. I stood there gaping in awe of his divine self- naked, vulnerable, yet willing. How was I going to feel when he touched me here and kissed me there? My eyes called out to him, my shoulders caved and my arms wrapped around me in an attempt to hide all they could, now that I was aware of my nakedness. He took a step towards me, pulled me by the waist and with eyes set ablaze by boldness; he laid a deep, passionate kiss on my lips. I melted, gave in and felt waves of vibration running through my body. We fell mindlessly into an act of lovemaking; but I? I fell somewhere much deeper. While pain rendered my mind blank as he tore through my virgin flesh, I lost all sense of reality and went completely numb. My eyes closed on an image of his gorgeous eyes offering bold assurance, yet no comfort. He laid kisses on my body lost in his own pleasure, indifferent to my pain; and I stopped feeling at all. I could not function normally for days together after this episode, because the pain lingered. Though it had lowered in intensity, it refused to go unnoticed when I attempted to walk. As if that was not enough, I could not help talking to him every hour of everyday that followed, until we met at the battlefield again. He fought against his urge to cause me harm during the reckless sessions of sex, while I fought against welling emotions compelling me to surrender to his domination when he lay on top of me, rigorously pounding against me. His pelvis played out music I was beginning to get addicted to, as it beat wildly against my thighs. All this while, my legs were wrapped around him in utter desperation before hell broke loose in my vagina and pure lustful bliss washed over every inch of my being. Eighteen, secretive, fearful- I felt like a sinful little bitch who was hiding away, within the deep reaches of her heart, a passion that grew with every session of sex we had. The frequency, the sensuality and his boldness, all grew with each time that we found ourselves one under the other. Now, just the look of my face was enough to make his trousers stand taut. I, on the other hand, was on a different page, in a different book, on an entirely different shelf altogether. I disbelieved and fought against every mean thing I ever heard about him. To me, he stood in a light falling straight from the sky that made his naked, delicious body glisten like dew drops under the first light of the morning sun. The light of that red spotlight, that night, worked just as well. There he was, leaning on the bar counter, talking to her. I was more than just a little drunk; I was hoping I was hallucinating. Of course, I could make eyes at him and make him remember I was still right there, couldn't I? But did I consider the possibility of his already knowing it? How could I? I did not even realise I was sitting with my legs apart among a crowd of strangers, in my short dress. I marched right up to him and asked him to come with me. As was certain, he refused with that same boldness. In his eyes I saw that very look being bestowed upon the surprisingly unattractive girl- that I thought was evoked at the sight of me, and me alone. As I did not know then, no amount of bawling, complaining or cursing could bring him to me. As effortlessly as he stepped into my life, he slipped away from under my shoulder, hoping I would continue being in a state of undisturbed slumber. Little did he know it was only to focus better on the comfort I received from being supported by his strong, square shoulders, that I shut my eyes. I did not and could not comprehend what his attempt to distance himself from me, implied. He pulled away and did not realise that there were strings attached now, after we had come together to make love and music over twenty times in six months. My soul retracted from this corpse that was chasing him like a shadow- weightless and stealthy- and was attached to him with strings that possessed but the strength of mere cobwebs for him. When he did notice, he grew resentful. Every passing day, he began to detest the thought of me a little more. I felt it was unfair- nobody could possibly have so much of me without so much as a momentary urge to keep it. With this man, I was rational- scrutinising every single move and waiting to be lead into a different zone of interpersonal relationships. He lived up to his role as a warrior and indiscriminatingly denied both- the actual and the speculated truth that I hurled his way in hopes of reconciliation. I could not have imagined a life without that passion and the strength of his arms pushing me into deep, dark areas, far away from my zone of comfort. I thought he could be awakened to the truth of his love for me. Little did I know I was attempting to tap into phantom emotions. I was I was living off my own blood to make him and keep him coming back for more. After repeated instances of belittlement and vehement denial of whole truth, what could I possibly do? Four days on this other side of existence, I find myself sitting in my bathtub, watching all my strength drain out of every aching muscle of my body, as the floor of the tub is re-colouring itself to match the colour of my blood. There is pounding on my bathroom door but I can feel myself surrendering to death and defeat. Cowardly it may be, but the hurt of deceit will never be felt by this nimble heart of mine again. I shall do myself this last favour and wait here, in hopes that I will never be forced to open my eyes again; to be swallowed by the darkness of my fast-approaching end. I pass off into a new universe that knows no treachery. "Feelings change", he said. It is not so hard living without him, because I don't have to.