This is exactly the fate of emotions when they run too high- they spill over. How to gather up and unwrap these feelings (treasured and kept in custody for so long) which are too accustomed to the darker corners ?
The fire that fed these feelings was thriving on the leftover heat but it was bound to get cold, like most other living things. The irony is that every time when she thought that the evening was about to give way to the dark night(at last), there arrived a singular note that would be enough to keep the fire of hope burning and let her continue with her dreams. But the one who should have felt the underpinnings of these hidden admiration failed to see through even after she had tried every possible way to make the emotions legible but this seemed to be one feat utterly impossible to be accomplished. She never knew she was so hard to read.
She has been always left ashore.
Life is simple if seen from one undisturbed angle, we make it complex and unruly, it seems. Her fault lies in the fact that she lives in a hyped world of her own where everything is so happy: happy thoughts, happy faces, happy dreams, fulfilled feelings. But the reality is severely simple. This note written as a tribute to her failed feelings (failed because it never saw the light of the day, failed because it means nothing to anybody, failed because she had no right to feel them, anyways) will be drifted away in the saline river of tears, may be. The words will get blurred but she is happy to see that other people are getting more reasons to smile and be happy. A part of her world thus survives with the collective collusion of other's happy sides. Not everyone is required to end up like her.
A banished angel treading on the path smeared with the blood of her own failed feelings that were never understood.