A somewhat personal, similar piece I wrote here ...
I tried in vain, to forget, to forgive myself; to live, as if nothing matters, as if I don't exist. She told me I do not take life seriously, as if it were a passing whim. I thought that was vague, and rebutted her so. Yet deep down, I knew what she meant.
On a restless evening, as I gazed into the crowd waiting for the train, she completely caught me unguarded, asking: "So, what's on your mind?" Her long raven hair swayed in the light breeze. To this day, I have wrapped this memory, tenderly, in a secret chamber of my heart.
A sailing boat, gentle rays of sun, sat on mildly undulating, placid water. Not a whirl of wind; the tiny, red rag hanging, despondent as a flag on the tip of the mast. A pair of sea birds circles high in the clear blue sky, hardly a cloud. Solitude emanates.
I think of her often - perhaps not enough. She was standing motionless in contemplation; head cocked, at the list of premium tea and coffee on the wide board, its top at an angle against the ceiling. "So, found anything you like?” I quipped something to that effect. A split moment passed before she turned to me, giving me a wide, mesmerising smile, her eyes almost a slit. I don't know whether she heard me, or had she already saw me heading for the restroom a few minutes before, and was waiting, to let me know, she was doing well.
Alone, silence abounds; serenity, yet to be found. Spacing out, gazing at a lake afar; in prayer, for a meaning to life.
(I found the words written in blue ink at the cardboard back of my lecture pad. Strange, that I forgot my signature, and the date. The date: the ink still fresh, but the thought, seems a thousand years away. Where and why I wrote it, I have no recollection. Perhaps, I was remembering the Saturday that I jogged to the nature park. Breathing hard before the lake, gazing deep into the insipid water tinted with the surrounding greenery, I felt my life wasted, slowly, like the water flowing into dark nothingness.)