SHE SLIDE

He watched her go through every commitment. His shoulders heavy from her crying, his arms had gotten used to the feel of her hair, his chest knew the rhythm of her heart beat and the feel of her breath. His ears resound the sound of her soft cries and his mind replayed the memories of her reddened eyes, stained cheeks and blood stained lips.
 He knew she deserved better. He knew what she wanted. He knew her value, he knew her worth. He thought that he knew just how best to treat her. He knew what would please her and what would not. He knew what hair styles made her pretty and what styles do not. But... He was just a friend. What could he do in this matter?

 She was a beautiful young lady, trying her best to be perfect in her little perfect character. She was a man’s dream. Yet she could not fathom why she had been in several relationship that turned abusive. First it was the simple guy that turned excessively jealous, then it was the social guy that was overly reckless, then the other boring guy that was only interested beneath her clothes, then the charming smooth talker that turned wrestler... The list was endless. Could there be any that complete her?

 She saw all these happening. How she fell for the wrong men and ended up crying in his arms. As an older lady, it was inappropriate to interfere in such issues. But then, she noticed that this crying shield (the male) seemed to be more interested in just been a friend in need. From experience, she could infer that he will be a better match for miss perfect pretty.
  Although she shouldn't interfere but, she could not help trying to make things right. She needed to talk to crying shield so he could make a move. It might just work out. She left her restaurant in good hands, wore her jacket, hat, gloves and made for her mission.

  How would he tell her? He didn't want to sound awkward and he didn't want to be taken unserious.
  He recalled his previous experience, it was devastating, the lady made a mockery of him in public. But she's different, she won't do that. He just had to take her to dinner, candle light dinner of course, plan with the old lady and say those words he'd been rehearsing all the years but never got to say them.
  At last he found the courage, now his mind will be at rest.

 She looked at the bottle. White label with a black skull at the left corner of the label. What to do with this bottle she thought. She was beautiful in skin but messed up at heart. So torn up she felt like a nylon exposed to heat, torn up, no remedy. Nobody could ever love a torn soul. This is the last straw. She cannot hold on. She had loved, she had trusted but all were doomed to fail.
  Could there be someone who could see beneath the miss perfect pretty and see the innocent child longing for a friend?  She thought for a long while. She kept seeing hazy, blurred pictures she couldn't decipher who.
  She looked at the bottle, took it slowly in her arms, stroked it, kissed it and let the lid slid. She smiled faintly, shaggy hair, a lone pair of vest and shorts. She was going to go to a better place free of love, numb to the world.
  Slowly she raised the bottle to her lips and gulped down every content to the last drop. She smacked her lips and smiled, job well done.
  Suddenly, she felt wobbly and weak. She fell on the sofa, staring straight at the ceiling, muttering her last words.

  The door gave way, he was standing with the old lady with a basket of flowers and a box of chocolate filled cup cakes. She was sprawled on the sofa. She didn't look well.
  He threw his cap, pulled of his coat, wrapped it round her while the old lady looked around for first aid.
 "Speak to me" he shouted.
 She smiled, made some hand motions. "I'm going to a better place", she whispered
"Where? Where?" He asked in confusion.
 The old lady sighted the bottle. She read the label. Immediately she went to the kitchen, cooked up a concoction in seconds and hurried to feed her with it.
"I love you, I love you, don't leave me, I've always loved you. Whenever you're hurt I bleed in my heart, every pain you felt, I felt it a thousand times, I can't forget the sound of your cries, like blues to my ears, I love you, I love you, I don't care what you've been through or how messed up your heart or soul is, I still want you, whole or half, in anyway, I love you, I love you." He screamed amidst tears as she lay in his arms.
 The old lady tried to force the concoction into her mouth. She wouldn't drink as she smiled faintly staring at the ceiling. He buried his head into her chest as she closed her eyes. He couldn't feel the rhythm of her heart beat or the feel of her breath.
 She was gone.

  The old lady watched as he threw flowers on her grave. He always loved her but he never did tell her. She never did found out and fell into the wrong hands. He always felt he was just a friend what could he do in the matter. Finally he found the courage to tell her what he always felt for her but she's gone. Would he ever love another the way he loved her?


We live in a physical world where ‘seeing is believing’. We fail to see right  there at the tugging at our heart the loving arm of a friend, lover, father, mother, sibling, all kinds of people you ever need in your life, He is there tugging, longing, hoping, that one day, you will accept his invitation. But then, we prefer what we see and can fathom, we prefer incomplete souls in human flesh who may not be able to complete the lack in your own soul. Whatever trauma may have been created by humans, Jesus is here to heal that heart, fil that void and make you whole. 

You are loved. Don’t give up on God’s love.