The Lonely Soul.

There he was, leaning against a wall, his dark black shirt contrasted with the pale wall he had his back on.

It was raining outside, a heavy down-pour. Rain always made him sad. The sound of it echoed in the shadowy space where he was sitting, and it made him feel small and fragile, like a worthless loner left ignored on a moving day - mate-less and abandoned.

On a rainy gloomy day, when the sky was at its rainiest and gloomiest peak, the rain drops were less than those tears that were falling from his eyes. The sun was setting, a purple shade was surfacing in the sky, creating a shadow of the cigarette he had lit. The sky, an endless stretch of clouds, came across as intimidating to him. He kept looking at it but it seemed to keep moving farther and farther away. The birds were envied by him; their freedom to fly, their ability to move to places, it made him angry. Here he was - stuck, in misery and there they were, flying above him with no worries. He looked around him and saw a woman walking with her two children on both sides, holding her hands tightly and beaming - beaming because they had someone to hold onto, unlike him. He saw a girl with her lover, a friend laughing with her best-friend and a man with his son was closing his shop, looking forward to go to his home, to his family. When he saw these people, he realized that even though he liked being alone at this moment, he didn't fancy it. The sight of all these 'happy people' hit him in his heart like bullets. Those faces made him burn, how were they managing to live with such ease?

It was a sad world he was living in, smiling while others cry, living while others die.

His world had collapsed and yet nobody seemed to care about it. Here was he, with no place to go to, with nothing to look forward to. He covered his face with his hands as his tears streamed down. He shut his eyes, pretending that if he couldn't see the world, the world couldn't see him either. It seemed like everyone around him was doing okay, it was just him with whom life was playing these sick jokes. He was the only despondent person on the face of earth. He looked through his pockets and found his wallet, in it a picture of her, he took it out and stared at it for awhile. He was beginning to memorize her face, imprinting it in his memory forever.

He put it against his chest, wanting it be a part of him, wanting that face to be always in front of his eyes, wanting to get lost in those ebony black eyes, wanting to play with those golden long locks with his fingers, wanting to touch that beautiful face, to feel it.

After gazing at it for a long, long, while, he decided to leave it at the floor he had been sitting on and move away. Away from this reality he didn't want to embrace. Life had taken away that one person he had never imagined he'd have to live without.

The one person who completed his being, the one he had promised to spend the rest of his life with, the one who was his sole reason for breathing, the one who was able to get him through anything and everything in his life, someone who'd put a smile on his face on his worst day, the joy to his tears, his favorite work of art, the one who'd help him overcome his fears, his sunshine, the head to his shoulder, the love of his life, the one who meant the world to him, his companion, his everything.

Life couldn't get any crueler, could it?

It wasn't making any sense to him. It was not like her to leave the stage in the middle of the song. She was the last person he thought he'd lose. She had promised to stay by his side forever. He loved her to death, and she just died on him.

Had it not been for the promise he had made to her - to never lose hope, to keep going on with this life; to live and never give up, he would have left this world a second after she did. He would have died with her. She was gone forever and even the thought of it made him clench. It made him suffocate. He had lost the heart to live, was it possible to carry on with a hole now, once where his heart had been?

He was living, but the question is, what for?