A little more love, A little more vulnerability

Two friends in their early twenties meet over coffee for a regular conversation.

He tells her that he wants to list out all the people that he wants to fall in love with, kiddingly.

And so begins a long conversation on vulnerability and love. And what we are meant to do when somebody else intersects our lives.

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2. On Listening

<Rough Draft>

And then he said…

I know, when that happens, I remind myself I'll have to pick myself up again. Move on. Let myself be. Let not my injuries define myself. But why? I know I'll move on. That's a given. But what about now? What about today? Why do you think I've not been hurt?

See me. I want my friends to see me. But they don't. They blabber out things, that they think are right. It's her fault, it's my fault, I'll have to forget, I'll have to do that. They miss the point, they miss the point totally. They miss why it happened. Something dies. And no one even cries. And I, I can't even point that out, because they won't understand.  They won't listen. I'm talking, I am trying to make them see me, but they won't listen. And then, when that happens, I give up. But then, what's the point? Of having a friend if they can't let you be, if they can't let you see. Who believe that you'll move on but who'll raise a toast to the memory of something wonderful that has died.

And when he said that, there was no exasperation. Every word, had no undertone, no expression. The undertone of it was not having one. He said it out blankly, he could have been saying  that the sky was blue. She could see his story. And then, she smiled. Atleast, she could see him.
 

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