Struck out lines of incomplete thoughts

Another day, another fight. Another bag of hurt feelings for each one of us. Another day irrevocably lost and memory marred by us. Things happened, words were exchanged and I said the fatal words somewhere in between. And so I am here, sitting on my bed with this notebook for company. She won't talk to me as long as I don't do what she asks me to. That's bad considering she has asked me to dig up, re-remember and document each and every bad memory, hurting looks, scaring remarks or in short anything that has hurt me in the duration of our relationship of 2+ years. now I tried explaining to her, to make her understand the futility of the exercise, but to no avail. Yes for arguments sake you may say that maybe it would help her understand and avoid her mistakes, help her to hurt me lesser. But that's a long shot with the risks too daunting to be attempted. Moreover if that be the objective, I prefer to pass on and talk about such information in a piecemeal format, not jotting down everything in a bulk. Now the risk, one of many anyways. Forgetfulness is a bane, but in some situations its also the biggest boon. Things happened, I get hurt, I bleed but then I also heal. Yes some cases leave scars - some longer than normal. But when thought in an overall scheme, I prefer to leave all bad memories behind & collect the good ones. Its not easy, but I can bet it, its much more difficult for her. Of course I may not be giving her enough credit for her efforts but this is simply too big a risk for me to take willingly. So I decide, I'll make a list all right, but of all the happy moments that I can remember so that both of us have something to cherish, something to treasure...
So where do we start? I guess the beginning would be a good place to do that. The first time I saw the girl people in college used to call 'Jassi'. I used to wonder why. Yes its about all good in a person of somewhat non-ideal looks. Well thats okay but when I saw her, I thought she's not at all anywhere near the person she's being compared to. And then I went on to wonder, doesn't it hurt her feeling and emotions. Little did I know that she does get hurt pretty easily but only from people she allowed close to her. She told me recently, she used to feel good infact, if not indifferent to it. Well, back to the scene when I first saw her. I was sitting with same friends on one of our college lawn benches when she walked across the scene, kinda in slow motion as I observed her yellow suit (more inclined, like 90%, towards the green one) had a handbag or something of that sort on one shoulder and was walking straight across, unmindful of the other people around in the lawn, in a world of her own. fast forward a few months and a few occasional interactions and we were standing near block C staircase (although I still feel its block A). She was in a white suit with little pink flowers on it. Her hairstyle was different and I guess thats why had'nt heard of the 'Jassi' comparison for sometime. We had had a small walk chatting on various topics that I can't recall and while parting I wished her "Happy Valentine day". Apparently, that was something other guys were afraid to do. It didn't seem a big deal to me back then or even now for that matter. But it is a cherished memory nonetheless.


Silently she screams
bleedin' inside out
unspoken fears,
the beast within,
deadly tears.

Silently she sleeps
unforgiving nightmares,
searching within,
destructive sears.

Silently she sees
despairing within
broken dreams,
scathing within,
indelible years.