Pulse of a Creep

Siddharth Pandit
Sep 8, 2018 · 1 min read

I sit staring at your whatsapp profile for hours. You’ve disabled your “last seen”, but I long to see you so I wait, wait till that ‘online’ tag flashes below your name.

At the core of my heart I know it’ll all end up in disappointment, that it won’t make a difference whether you’re online or not, that I’m not getting any messages from you asking how my day was or something which continues our discussion from the day before, when we met.

And that’s cause you don’t care enough. The countless times I’ve shown that I care, you’ve taken what was there to take and pushed me aside. A dagger in my soul. Yet, I embrace the pain and put a smile on my face, hoping in vain that you’ll see what lies beneath the facade. Can’t you see it in my eyes?

Probably not. Or even if you do, you choose to ignore. Yet, the irresistible pull of your pulchritude has bedazzled me, and my senses surrender to the command of your charm. And there I am staring at the screen, waiting for that elusive message.

And when you do come online, I freeze. The next moment, a strange yearning grips me. I long to see ‘typing’ in the green font. And then you’re gone. But I still sit, motionless, like a stone from the outside, but there’s a storm brewing inside.

As always, my wait has been in vain. I’ve fallen for you, waiting still for you to stretch your arm to pull me up. Would you?