Loss and Hurt ( Alternately, I HATE Facebook)

Isnt life full of surprises?  Some sweet, like that solid block of Cadbury’s which leaves brown doughy stains on your pearly whites. Or maybe even that quick,shy smile from that handsome stranger who crosses your path as you plod back home after a long, punishing day. Some painful, like death. Cold smote of death. Or a sharp word, abysmal marks, an abominable cold that has your nose looking like a huge dollop of red jam and making you miss your best friend's birthday party. 

Some time's Life decides to purse her lips into a thin mean line , pull her hair back into a spartan bun punishing every straying strand with a tight slap to the scalp, wipe out the pretty paint off her nails and sit straight-backed on an unforgiving steel chair before whisking out her black diary from the pits of her elephantine purse. She then raises the monocle to one eye, peers at the black scribbles with the barely dotted i's and the t's crossed as a vague afterthought, running all across the soft, white page. She lifts her finger majestically, and then places it just about anywhere on the page where she wants to. A slight smirk and then she rearranges her face back to its prim, tight lipped contours.

She has found her next victim. The one she will would ply with the weirdest luck and the craziest hurdles just because it was fun seeing someone squirm. And anyways, it was boring being all good all the time. And didn't someone on that big blob of blue, green, humans and waste say- Life teaches through its experiences and through time?

This time it was ME.

I will spare you the details and jump right to the latest "little" misfortune.

I have always found Facebook.. how do I put it..well, comforting. It felt like home. Blue curtains and a quilt of familiar faces. Brightly colored memos of everyday news and pictures whooshed into my screen every few minutes. Best friend's, boyfriend's, cousins, castaway's, that celebrity whom you once met in a party and she added you to her list of growing fans. They were all there. Someone was depressed, I dropped in a kind word. Someone whooped out her words, I shared in his joy of landing a job. That kid commented that he thought I was cute and I in turn just wanted to pinch his cheeks for it lit a warm little fire in me that a 12 year old could find a 22year old "hot". Chat windows popped in right, left, center- a hail storm of green buttons and rectangular slots; friend's welcoming me for yet another mindless tete-tete , yet another afternoon.

Of course, I wore my heart on my sleeve on Facebook. You see, as per basic psychological tests and those times I amused myself by studying myself- I am an attention seeker. Apparently. Maybe not, but enough to pose and preen and try a million clothes and pout with winsome eyes. Have a hostel-mate knock on my door well past little kid's bed time and the sudden deluge of clothes on the floor and make up on our faces. For the Facebook heck of it.

And yes, I wrote. Pain, Love, Lust, Anger, Despair.. Pimple,practicals,clinking vodka glasses and that redolent shampoo I have stopped using; I wrote. Into the night and typing furiously into yet another pale dawn, brushing aside tear or hardly able to contain my ebullience, I wrote. I am not that great a writer, but it comforts my soul. Just like in a way, it is comforting now. Even when, my heart is paining so badly- excruciating, hemorrhaging pain. I feel like a 10 ft giant picked me up and thrashed me onto the ground studded with cruel nails. A million times over. Over and again. THRASH, THRASH, Oh bloody thrash.

Why? You see. I never saved my Facebook notes. 

And there were 40 of them.

Silly, happy, masochist some, vindictive, childish. But they were there. And now I have lost them. For good.

For the people out there in the real world, they will shake their heads in a sympathetic way, cluck and coo-" Child, you shall write again and even better." How do I explain that each word that was typed down related only to that instant of time? How can I recreate the moments, those little sliver's of time gamut with trembling emotions? Maybe you fellow blogger's will understand? That..

I had to be on that dace floor, to feel the that fluttering, restlessness need to sweat out and dance.I have to be damaged with pain, to write about hesitant gazelle's. I had to hurt someone to hurt myself and write that note laced with dark humor and words of unbounded sarcasm. I had to suffer nights of insomnia, terrifying nights at that to be able to feverishly grasp that fleeting wisp of a happy thought and put it on the screen. Some were accidents, a need to entertain myself with words and play with the letters of the alphabet and juggle them without caring where they would fall.

I have lost of them. 40 of them. I cried like a colicky baby, like a widowed bride, like a mother who has lost her child. I howled like the proverbial wolves on a full moon's night- their snouts embossed against the startlingly white moon, standing up above a lonesome hill. But what good did it do, save boring more circles of black under my eyes? I wont get those back. Dad hugged me, mum cradled me.. but can any of you bring back my smudged canvas?It feels like.. Water tippled down and in almost Machiavellian humor decided to drench my diary, washing away every painstakingly inked entry. 

Yes, Life. I understand. I should have saved them in a pen drive, maybe mailed them to my own address. I did not. Sorry. But you dint have to do that.

I feel like someone has scooped out my heart. And the body still is making epileptic, dying jerks of pain.

Help :(