The good nightmare

Darkness flowed all around him, till the corners of the room. He woke up with a jerk from his nightmare. Breathing his lungs out, constantly deep and getting deeper with the silent ticking of the clock. Drank the rest of the glass placed behind a packet of sleeping pills. This was the ninth time he got a strike in the midnight after their separation. The only thing that calmed him down was her voice he had saved as audios from the earlier calls. The calls which were made during the last six months. This night there were no files on the device, no audios, no call recordings. He tried switching it again and again, but found nothing. Perspiring like hell, he jumped out of his bed, unlocked his cupboard, pulled the drawer out to see the poems written by her and the gifts gifted to him but found nothing even there. Nothing except the poems and letters written by him, for her. He turned on the laptop to see his pictures with her. The wallpaper which was a picture of him and her sitting on a park bench, showed only him this time. The other end of the bench was vacant like no one ever sat there before. Not even the grass was green this time when he saw it. Everything else was intact, including him and his smile. This vacant space was found in all the pictures in his picture gallery. The pictures of him walking alone, cooking alone, dancing like a fool, all alone. She had disappeared from each and every moment without the knowledge of the man there on the picture. Like no one was ever there in those moments, except him. Something was really wrong. He could not believe the fact that was before his eyes and beyond his acceptance. He tried in every possible way to trace her existence, but could not. “Whom are you talking about?”, was the answer he got every time he asked any of his friends about her.
A logical answer or a truthful shock was only given to him by a psychiatrist. He said, “after your last breakup, you and your mind were so alone that it needed someone to take care of. So it created a character. Which was born from your imagination. That exactly knew your likes and dislikes. So you liked it and fell in love. Those pictures are the evidence that there was no one with you and your smile proves that you believed someone was there. When the need was fulfilled, when your mind recovered from the earlier pain, it went missing.”

This explanation took out the darkness inside, but made his life a blur story. The penicillin he swallowed an hour ago made his blood thinner like gas flowing through his nervous system. In a compact room, sweating like a criminal, recalling every moment spend with an imaginary girl once and for all. With every image crossing his mind, he slowly pulled out a handy knife from his pocket and cut all the lines that kept him alive. Blood covered the entire floor within seconds. Darkness again played its role.

After a few hours he again opened his eyes. But a bright morning this time. The sun fell on his skin and brightened it up. He smiled at the beautiful picture of her on the opposite wall. And then he ended,

Dear diary,

The worst nightmare ever…

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