The bubble of lovelessness

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He was everything she could ask for. The true yin to her yang. He was not the fire that would burn her passion or her soul. He was not the wild horse that she would tame. He was not the hunter that would hunt her down. He was this mildly scented stream in the woods that flowed peacefully through seasoned, leveled grounds. Slow, joyous, calm, and familiar, with the power to heal just by being around with countless caresses and deep, deliberate, wet kisses. He was everything she could ask for..

She felt respected and cared for. He lived in a universe diametrically opposite to hers and that helped. There were no wildfires or passionate episodes and resulting bloodshed. But there was so much unexplored, so much to learn, so much to ease into and let grow on each other, like those vines on the walls of the house outside her window.

But……

But she felt trapped in a bubble. She felt alienated from him, them and all the beauty. She felt lonely. She felt sad. May be, it was the pills she missed; she was supposed to pop into her system systematically to stay sane. Maybe it was her good old real inner self waking up from hibernation. She tried to stretch her hand out to reach, so the prince in shining armor could pull her out of this wretched bubble that claimed to own her. But its walls were soundproof, and no one could hear the screams. What would she do? She wanted him and his love badly. She wanted to heal. But she did not know her way out of her bubble.




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