Sitting beside the driver, on the road, heading back home, watching trees, people and all sorts of life go by, my thoughts went back to that one person who probably is never going to leave the back of my mind.

And at that point, I sat and wondered. Wondered why do I always reach out for that one thought that always places me in front of her. What is it that always pulls me towards her and why? After all, the thought of her doesn’t invoke any feelings nor does it matters anymore. Is it the force of habit?  Or has her memory escaped into the empty spaces of my head?
The spaces which were reserved for its nothingness, where the world remained unimportant and the only thing I could hear is my soul.

And then my thoughts went to a question that probably will never get answered. A question that is on the verge of insanity for its answer is impossible. And to curb this insanity you make the use of assumptions.
The question being, whether the person in question even spares a thought for me? Is it worth it that she stands at a place in my mind which is so close to my soul?
And then I made an assumption. A calculated assumption.

I pictured this person and understood her objectively from the remains I had collected in the form of her memories and came to the conclusion that she wouldn’t actually give a flying fuck about me and the only reason I seem to do what I do is because of a scar.
A scar that I keep going over, a scar that has become a reminder to remain focused and to never forget the despair and pain I went through.

Guess scars are important too!




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