“This is Shit, Ed. This is Shit!!”
“…”
“Yaa! Just keep looking at it. This is the 17th time you are looking at this piece of crap like this.”
“…”
“Ahhff! I can’t do this anymore.”
That was the last time Helen spoke to me. Its been 25 days and 13 hours. Helen is, Ahem, was my editor and
My girlfriend. That was also a ‘was’
She broke up with me when I proposed her. It has been one year since I asked her to marry me, since she broke up with me, since I started writing shit. I was never angry on her. I didn’t take our breakup personally too. In fact, I was trying hard to rebuild our relationship. I was trying hard to write so that I can impress her. I know she fell in love with me because of my work. She was a fan of my works. When I came to know that she was aspiring to be an editor, it was I who offered her a job on one of my editorial departments. I was the fucking king and she was supposed to be my queen. And I loved her so much. Loved making love to her.
Oh Helen.
I was going to meet her today. These last 25 days, I haven’t written even a single word. I was thinking. Thinking a lot on what had gone wrong. Thinking a lot on why my last 17 drafts were shit. Even my 15th draft, which I consider the best, was called ‘A Mediocre One’ by Helen. When Helen says it’s Shit, then there’s no question to it. Somewhere on the way, I even thought of try checking my draft with another editor. But I know better than questioning Helen’s talent. That bitch! I should have never offered her a job in the first place. But I never questioned my talent too. For nearly a month, I was thinking about my novel, The Red. Why it lacked my genre – as Helen would quote “I don’t qualify this draft as Edmond genre” – she would say teasingly.
Oh Helen.
The love she had in me was endless. Unfathomable. Mugen. I never loved her the way she loved me. Her love always showered me with breeze. Hit me like a rock. I should’ve loved her back like the way she loved me. I should’ve loved her more than she loved me. That was the problem. I didn’t love enough. And finally, I understood why I have been lacking the infamous Edmond Genre in my drafts.
Yes! I didn’t love both Helen and my novel more enough.
Ding Dong
The alarm bell of my apartment startled me as the nicotine start hitting my brain. I was smoking more than I used too. I never smoked when Helen was around. She hated the smell of tobacco.
“Oh Shit.” – I forgot that I had called Helen to meet me today. And she came. She is here right now waiting for me to open the door. – “Oh Shhhhhhiiitt!!”
I lifted my drowsing body from the sofa. The first thing my eye spotted was the Ash Tray. The second thing I spotted was the cocaine powder in the table near my credit card. I took the ash tray on my left hand. Using my credit card, I gently brushed the cocaine towards the end of my newly bought glass table. As soon as the powder hit the surface of my Ash Tray, I searched for the garbage cover.
The bell started ringing.
“Yeah Coming!” – I shouted. A fear started creeping me and to my relief I spotted the garbage cover smashed and glued on the corner of the kitchen. I ran. I realised I was getting sober. I ran. I watched the clock as I neared the kitchen. I ran. She was supposed to meet me at 6. She was one hour early. I ran. And reached the garbage cover. As soon as I picked the cover, something inside me stopped me. I watched the cocaine powder on my Ash Tray.
The bell started ringing once again. Sweat started producing on my forehead. I was sobering completely now. Now, Helen knocked the door hardly. In a rush, my hand moved swiftly and came near my mouth. My mouth opened on its own and accepted the cocaine powder eagerly. My tongue can taste the sour taste of the cocaine and the bitterness of the tobacco that were burnt to ash in that Ash Tray.
And my Brain received the HIGH!!!
OH HELEEEN
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