Hello there Reader! This is an idea I’ve been playing around in my head for sometime now. Maybe I can develop it further into something. Comments, criticisms and feedback is welcome ☺
As a hero he was always “victimised?” Always the one who ended up getting hurt. Always the one who was taken for granted. Always the one who’s soul was crushed upon.
All his life, all he had done was try try and try. A try to fit in. To be loved. To be cared for. To be understood. To be appreciated.
But nothing he ever did was good enough. Nothing he did for them made him lovable to them.
All those years, spent in solitude, all those days when his palms were wet wiping his own tears – no one else cared about them.
All those times he expressed his hurt, only in vain. For they chose to ignore him.
Because they knew he’d always stick around, regardless.
They were wrong.
Solitude had introduced him to darkness.
It was alluring. The darkness was tempting.
A walk along its path brought him power, freedom from false hopes and a certain coldness to heart. Just the kind he needed to mend it.
Walking that path, he was hated, feared and condemned. He didn’t care.
At least this way he knew why he was being treated the way he was.
To get hurt or be hurtful, that was the golden lesson life had taught him the hard way.
He was done getting hurt.
All those that saw him thought of him to be a natural tyrant. He did a good job at shielding his inner vulnerability. At hiding how much pain he felt everytime he hurt someone.
How the guilt was beginning to consume him.
How desperately he wanted to hold on to the light.
But it was too much, the path of light held nothing for him anymore, or so he thought.
Until he met her.
He knew in his heart, she could be his redemption or the end of his humanity, whatever was left of it anyways.
Was he ready for that kind of plunge
, that leap of faith? Only to possibly getting hurt again? Did he have that much courage? He didn’t know.
Copyright ( c ) [ Sneha P ] Rights reserved. 2015