Confessions Of A Philophobic

And what can you do when someone just sees through you, as if you were a sieve. What can you do when you just can’t hide your thoughts, the workings of your mind and the monologues of your heart from him? He reads it all from your face, with just that one look. How can you stop a single glance from speaking volumes? He just knows. Sometimes your voice reveals all that you ever tried to conceal. Sometimes the averted gaze does. It’s awkward. You’re embarrassed. Vulnerable. You learn to ignore. You’re afraid of being hurt. You learn to alienate. You abruptly stop speaking to the person who genuinely cared about you.  You, out of the blue, stop interacting with him, the one for whom you felt that bit of love. Because you are afraid to confront love. You are afraid to give in to love. You seek love, yet, when love comes in your way, you change direction terrified of what it would bring with it. You change paths, as acknowledging love is difficult, and yet again you go on seeking it. You leave broken hearts on your wake. Half of them, your own.

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Those smiles that used to come your way the moment you reached the door, now come no more. Those waving hands are now held down with restraint. And the repeated goodbye chants are no more heard.  Those eyes are always full of questions, perhaps accusations, perhaps guilty ruminations. The once palpable unbridled joy is now absent. And you miss it all. And you know it’s your doing. Heart wrenching hurtful it is. That’s a philophobic’s life. A heart that feels the deepest, but can’t own it all. A heart that seems closed, behind high impenetrable walls, but is open vulnerably enough. Seeks solace in disguises, camouflages and false pretensions. It falls a little in love with every second person it meets. It beats for every person who bares a part of his soul to it, knowingly or unknowingly. It can’t help that. It’s hate that’s difficult. Ignorance needs mastery. Love comes easy. Naturally.

You also fear meeting again another person you could fall for. Even when you are seeking the same. A life of doomed opposites, juxtapositions, clashing epiphanies and ironies. Always seeking that kind of perfect love that would eventually out last fear.


Pratikshya_MishraAn engineer by education, Pratikshya is an IT professional in the weekdays and an aspiring writer by the weekend. She’s an avid blogger. She passionately blogs on various books, KDramas, movies, fiction, occasional verses and other abstruse musings at Magic Moments. Reading feeds her soul; travel and music, her preferred mode of therapy; spirituality, a daily pursuit; and experimenting with food, a favorite pastime. You can find her sharing her latest inspirations, travel updates, and artsy creations on InstagramHer writing ventures can be read here: Jodhpur DiariesTwitter Handle: @pratikshyam. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pratikshya.mishra.777

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