Dud Sea Scrawls The Writing, clearly, is not on the wall!

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It is followed by a time period wherein you are not very comfortable with your realization. Suddenly you cannot talk to her as you used to. You cannot make fun of her, cannot look at her without thinking how beautiful she is. It does not help that she does not have a clue as to what is going on inside of you. In fact you feel ashamed of developing such feelings when it is quite clear that she considers you as the same person. She does notice that you are not the same person but dismisses it off as soon as you dismiss it away when she questions you about it. You try to keep up the pretense, but the effort takes a toll on you. You are unable to concentrate, unable to enjoy life, unable to think about anything else other than her, unable to sleep peacefully even, it’s like some alien being has taken over your mind and soul and you are left watching helplessly. That’s when it happens - the realization that you need to do something about the disease that is ravaging your insides. You think of hundred ways in which you will profess your love to her. You imagine her talking to you and you put a hand on her mouth to make her shut up and just say - I love you. Even thinking about it gives you goose bumps. But that’s all you can do - think about it. She keeps talking; you keep listening, trying to muster all your courage but failing miserably. Its like your hand had a paralytic stroke or something considering that it was almost impossible to move.

You think of putting your feelings on paper and handing it out to her. Your pour your heart and soul out. Tell her how much you love her and how it would be a dream come true if she accepts your love. You sit there dreaming about her reading the letter, blushing profusely and swooning in your arms. Nothing like that happens, because the letter remains in your backpack. An idea that seemed to be so bright a while ago looks like the cheesiest one ever when it is time to hand her the letter. The letter lies there just like you had put in, until you remove it and tear it into the smallest pieces possible.

You think of buying a ring for her and asking her in theatrical style if she’d be your girl. Neither do you have the money to get her what you’d like to nor are you a theatrical person. You are left licking your wounds. You decide that tomorrow’s going to be the day. You are going to tell her how you feel about her. Tomorrow comes, but the confession never comes. So many tomorrows come and go, but you still have to open your mouth about you feelings to her. This is the day you tell yourself firmly and grab her saying that there is something important you need to tell her and drag her to the cafe. She is all ears and you are all sweaty in the air-conditioned cafe. She is concerned and you are feeling nothing short of stupid about the entire thing. You just want to say it and get it over with…

“Shruti…I…” you start.

Just then her cell phone starts ringing. All the effort it took in gathering the courage goes down the drain. Your head is spinning when you realize that you need to go through the same old rigmarole. But you do. She comes in hand in hand with handsome young man. “Hello Abhay.This is Jai,” She says with a twinkle in her eye that you know very well. A twinkle that suggests that this person is the one she loves. You feel like it’d be better if some truck dumped a ton of bricks on you. Yet you smile, extend you hand and introduce yourself. You can clearly see that she’s in love. Just not with you.