Last week, I shared a piece of fiction I wrote and I was greatly encouraged by the response. Falling To Pieces is a continuation of sorts.
Falling To Pieces
As she wrote her letter, she thought back to the days after she had broken off from him.
One particular day came to mind. Following a night of disturbed sleep interspersed with bouts of tears, she had woken up late. Hurriedly she had got ready and rushed off to work, knowing that she had a busy day before her – three proposals to present. She wondered how she was going to confidently make the presentations to the clients. She had got used to getting a pep talk from him before she made her proposals. No pep talks today. No talks ever…….
Strangely, all three clients called to re-schedule their appointments. She breathed a sigh of relief and got down to the everyday stuff of running her business. But her mind kept wandering and she found herself going back to read old emails she had exchanged with him and chat records. She wondered now how she had missed the signs. All through their relationship, she had been the one trying so hard. On his side, there was constant disinterest. She was the one who initiated most interactions. All plans to meet used to be initiated by her. And when she told her of his plans to expand his business, she was the one who had offered money, despite his protests.
She began to see a pattern in her behaviour and it wasn’t pretty. To put it plainly, she was a woman in her thirties trying too hard to have a relationship with a man who was so disinterested in her. When did she become so needy? How did she become so desperate to make things work between them?
Later that night and back home, she got into an argument with her mother over something silly. She couldn’t remember now what it was. But she had rushed into her room and slammed the door behind her. Like watching someone in a movie, she saw herself falling to pieces. She paced the room like a mad woman. How had her life come to this? What about her future? Would she never find love? Was she not enough? Falling into the bed, she cried into her pillow to muffle her sobs. It seemed that her crying went on endlessly, until she had no more tears. Just an empty feeling in her heart. How would she go on?
But life had gone on and she had survived. Looking back today, she repeated this to herself:
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