That is not the point, his voice rings in her ear. That was what he always said. She never got his point, never, but in the beginning, that did not matter.
They lay, side by side staring at the ceiling and the sinking realisation drills deeper into his rational mind, and her bottomless heart. And as the core, the centre of that hard sharp fact reaches a depth that verifies its hard truth, they both saw that they their worlds are miles apart, and she, began to feel a rising feeling that, despite their hand-holding, and love-making, they each stood alone, on their own side of the world. And the ceiling spun, like the drill that is drilling into the depth of her, hot tears streamed quietly from the corner of her eyes, and her world, the one where she built with happy memories of him and her, crumbled. They may not be, after all.
"Yet each man kills....."
That is not the point, his voice rings in her head. That was what he always said. She never got his point, never, but in the beginning, that did not matter. Days have passed since they talked, not about anything worth talking about anyway. What to have for dinner, what they are doing in the weekend, nothing they say to each other really mean anything, make any dents, build up, or break down. I guess maybe that is why they decided, to argue. And then the minute they started arguing, they argued, but at least they felt each other's presence. Of course he always had a point, and she never did, to him, she never did, feelings are not a valid point. And so we hear him say over and over again.
"Yet each man kills the thing he loves...."
That is not the point, his voice rings in her head. That was what he always said. She never got his point, never, but in the beginning, that did not matter. That is not the point, the words rang in her head, over and over and over again.
What happened Darcy, what happened? Elizabeth had feelings, that is what happened. She lay, on the ground as he stared, angry at her selfish ways, doing only what she felt. He could not understand, the realities of her that feels because he was a rational thinking man, always managing to exercise self control, always managing to calculate risks, and walk straight. She was always running, jumping, flying, but tears stream down her face as she asks him, is that not why he loved her in the first place? But that was not the point. Not the point. Not the point...
And in that moment, where her anger, frustration, pain, sadness, and all within her overwhelmed her, surged up from inside and grew to surround her, more and more, for he refused to acknowledge it, ate her, she ran, and jumped and hoped very hard she could fly.
But she could not. And so there he stood, staring at her as she lay on the ground, five floors below, frowning at her selfish ways, and his hatred welled up from within him. The hatred he had rationalised burst through his rational man, and he shouted, with all his might, curses no one dreamt he could say. And the broom hit the fan.
"yet each man kills..." Each woman too I say.
But that was not the point, the point is, she is now dead.
And all she wanted was to prove, her point.
Yea, selfish I say.
On whose part? Mr.Darcy and hers, I guess. Both.
Hello, you say, goodbye, said I.
.......
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