Holding his, inseparably.

It was one of those devious fights. The destructive, disrupting one. What did it do? It deranged her. Simple.

Please don’t ask me what he felt. I wouldn’t be able to explain it. Before you are mistaken let me tell you; he was not emotionally drawn out. No. If anything, he was emotionally driven. He was very much aware, rather awakened of his emotionality. This is what makes me enamoured with him. I have not seen a person, let alone a boy, who feels as much as him. Boy, I say. Yes, boy he was, and I think will be, even ten years from now.

I am a simple woman, people. A woman who just feels, writes and proceeds. I don’t believe that feelings creep through my skin like blood in our veins or food in the plants. I feel a breeze, take the awe of it, sit there and feel it just as long as it is there. I am not able to carry the same breeze with me to wherever I go, so that I enraptured people I met �" the way it did me. Thus, it escapes my realm of understanding for how to explain what he felt. Let us just say, he felt. And when he felt something, he made sure he did.

So, to sum it up, the fight left her devastated, and him, caught up into the feelings of what had happened. Yet, he knew his reason was not illogical. He had loved her to the fullest, cherished her to the fullest, made way for her to the fullest. And now that he fought, he had a well found reason to do the same too.

I don’t mean to picture the girl in a bad light here. Don’t think bad of her, she is my heroine! As much as I would like to be at her place. Empathize with her even, for we women are simple. We feel an instance, express it and go dancing to the next moment. We are used to handling men who either feel little, or nothing at all. And expression? Meh. Who are we kidding? Men never express. This is what all our men have brought us into thinking, so we are not used to doing much on our part (thinking, I mean) for them. But just think about handling a man whose intensity is that of ten other women. Or more. That is where we, non-heroines, will fail. And that is where my super-woman climbs in. She caters and tackles her emotionally dense man with great aplomb, at least until now. Man? Last we knew, he was a boy. I know! See the facets? That is our hero.

How is our heroine supposed to catch up all that is thrown her way with that much speed, intensity and focus? How much could she handle? This was her limit. Today, she gave up trying to understand the well-found reason her other half had in mind. It was emotionally fatiguing, keeping up with him. He didn’t have any other concerns in the world, other than her. So, he cared for her very single moment. Every single moment. But she couldn’t take so much of caring, forget giving it back. She wanted her own space, like every other girl. Whereas he, like none other, thought they were one. Heart and soul.Literally. So thinking about her was as if he was taking care of himself, he argued.

And thus when she wanted to gain some space, he felt her distancing. Well found reason. Naturally, his argument to fight was justified. But, my dear readers, isn’t a normal person, a simple woman entitled to a simple, light area of living? Where was she wrong?

These were the times when she had other bothers in life. To top it, maybe he was bothered for her at the same time. Then, all these burdens of bothers will squish her little brain, and she would want space. But distance himself when his darling needed him the most? That was not our hero. These were the times when our heroine thought she couldn’t keep his heart any more. Then, she wanted to give it back to him, gently.  How was she supposed to do this? He was a gallant man. He never took back what he gave. And he had given her his heart.

She knew. Giving was difficult. But taking was heftier, for when you take something, you have to learn the intricacies of it to treasure it well. That involved double the work than having something of your own. It was all the more difficult now, that she has had it for a while and had started living on it. How was she to part from it? She was holding it, inseparably.