The lines in black and white

The place was full. Not that she expected it to be less crowded.

She made her way in.

It was paradise.

There were rows and rows of books. Books of every kind, stacked up neatly and it was so beautiful that it was bewitching.

The novels with their stories waiting to be opened and read. And to read and enjoy and to be mesmerized.
She walked slowly and looked at all the books around her.

It was such a wonderful sight to behold.
But, it failed to make her happy.
Those black and white romances failed to soothe her. And it was the first time.
All these years, she had turned to them to cheer her up, whenever she felt like. And they had always been her friends. Until something did them apart.

She didn't even know or understand what had happened.
That was the power of it.

The power of losing oneself in another person. The possibility of it, the treachery of it. Everything was more beautiful and it was mocking at her in a way, which she found to be intimidating. Everything had been crystal clear until then, and the haze was rather unexpected, and it refused to fade away.

She tried to find her way through it, and she found it to be locked.

She searched for the key everywhere. There was a glint here and there. A few sparks of light teased her. But when she tried to go near, it was not there. It all seemed too confusing and she kept on searching for the key, to the door that keeps her away from herself.

And one fine day, she found out that the key was never meant to be found by her, and what was on the other side of the door was never meant to be hers.
Why can't that key be hers? Why shouldn't it be?

Her mind lamented.

But, she refused to give up. May be one day, i will actually find the key to the door. The key i am searching for might be mine someday. Some fine day.

And for that day, i will wait, until i could no longer stand near the door and until i could bear the coldness of it.

And hope may bring in brightness and warmth, and will show me the key and the other world. The door might open some day.

I will wait near it. If it refuses until i can barely see myself, i will always wonder why it never gave me the key. I will always wonder why.

She gave a huge sigh, and oped a book near her, with the hope that her old friend will soothe her like in the past. But, her wounds are deep and still unhealed. She didn't wish for them to heal. They were painful, yes, but it made her realize herself that she could not always get what she wanted the most.