Calling himself home

Warning: This is not an uplifting read.

The headlines of the paper seemed to be staring at him, as if pleading with him to read the few words splattered on the top left corner for another time. When he cast his first glance at the rag after parting some coins for it, they (the words) forced him to do a double-take. But he ignored them in time before the cacophony of voices would ring incessantly in his ear.

Now, with the paper sitting on his work desk and its back page facing him, these words found their way back to his consciousness.

They prodded, teased, and they pricked.

To their right was the photo of a male specimen, top-half naked and cropped at the area where it hinted of a washboard abdominal feature, which would send any female hearts spinning into a fantasy Valentine. On the left were these words that screamed, “10 years of being single… Yes, I’m lonely”.

They prodded, teased, and they pricked.

Indignant, the voices hissed in anger, “Ten fucking years! How about ‘all my fucking life’ for me? What right do you have to say things like that? Don’t you know it would be another day in paradise for you?”

Then, a terrifying scream and a sudden surge of pangs of pain somewhere.

They didn’t devastate him enough, but they did enough to tire him. He was now resigned for the umpteenth time this week. He was left battered once again by these words, or rather his negative emotions in disguise.

Comforting words were once rarities in his life. He had to draw them out from himself in attempts to stem that tide.

Listening ears were once highly sought-after. But they too have become something of a painful rarity.

Then, he chose words to express himself, using poorly conceived stories and third-person accounts to paint his world, inviting whoever’s interested a small peek into the storms of his life. But by now, they have become repetitive. No one would think of watching Titanic 100 times, let alone read the words he so carefully strung to salve his pain.

He wants to go home badly. Any home. Any place. Where he needn’t be. Where he could loose himself from his own expectations, his own emotions and even his own life.

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