Draft -> Delete -> Draft -> Delete
This vicious circle entrapped him.
An inability to express things ‘in person’
had once forced him to choose writing as a way off and now it was conjuring.
She on the other hand was a live twitter: either stay within 140 characters or
prepare yourself for a slaughter.
He deleted the draft for twelfth time. Things
were not so continuing between them and he felt dejected, confused and lost.
“An e-mail! Really? Won’t it would portray me
as pushy, dunderhead and perv considering that we aren’t that regular anymore?”
questioned his left brain. “Are you insane? Whatever you’re writing is true.
Expressing oneself is not wrong. Only this road is less taken by” replied the
right counterpart. “But this is nothing new. I’ve had told her this a dozen
times. Girls aren’t that obtuse!” left stood confused. “Rome wasn’t built in
one day either. Reiterations braces solidity. Plus this would be an out of box
kind of thing. She’ll cherish this” right tried its characteristic ‘acting out
stories’ attempt. “What if she doesn’t? Long messages freak her out and this
even crossed a page!” “Life isn’t limited to 140 characters. Firstly nothing
shall happen. Secondly don’t you believe that everyone deserves a second
chance? If anything otherwise happens, apologise. This is precisely why ‘sorry’
word got invented! Loose out man. Relax. Trust your instincts. They somehow
already know what is correct”. Bang! A modified Steve Jobs was quoted by right
in within no time.
“Your message has been send” flashed the
screen. After thirteen attempts on that Friday evening, the ‘logical’ left was
once again overpowered by ‘daydreamer’ right.
The next moment he experienced drapetomania.
He closed his eyes and made a wish.
Hope was all what he had!
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