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Missing People
About that.
I mean, we all walk by, bump into, look at a ton of strangers. But among them, there is The One that stands out. The One that pops out, you never forget. You dream of becoming friends, you think of talking to ( ), but in reality, catching a glimpse of ( ) is enough.
Now then, what happens if that’s not enough?
What happens if you want to talk? What happens if you want to be friends? What happens if you want to be more than friends?
Let’s get this straight though. This isn’t love or any kind of pure affection. It’s more of an obsession. Obsession towards a stranger. A fantasy. A very-private fantasy.
Back to the point, if you do want to develop a very one sided relationship, by all means go for it. But. But, you have to find that stranger first.
How? Wait at the same place where you met ( )? Ask people if they have seen This stranger? No. There is no how. You just sit. You just sit and let your twisted fantasy do the work.
Let ( ) be yours.
Find those missing people.
Life without a Purpose
I met him the first day I moved but we didn’t become friends then.
After a month, I still didn’t have any friends and I became desperate. He realized this and approached me. His name was Max. It didn’t take long for us to become close friends. After all, he lived two house down the street and we were in the same class.
He was quiet during class but during break, he would be the one who usually starts shenanigans and get into trouble. He would often tease girls and play rough with his other friends, but he never bullied anyone. Not every one liked him, but every one definitely knew of him.
Every day after school we would hang out at the play ground but whenever his brother got new games, we would stay at his house and watch Max’s brother play. Thanks to him, we were able to get our hands on new and sometimes age inappropriate games before most of the crowd did.
One day in school, Max realized that whenever I was involved in his mischief, he didn’t get into too much trouble. Of course, we still got into trouble but the punishments weren’t as harsh. Few days later, he introduced me to his group of friends.
I knew of them but that was the first time I was introduced as a friend, one of their own. Jay was a big, Carrot was lanky but strong and Jim always had a smile on his face. It didn’t take long to become good friends with all of them.
It was last day of school when I first met Max’s parents. For a whole year, staying close to him and hanging out at his house, I never met either of them before. Max looked a lot like his father but his mother looked very young, maybe a bit too young to be Max’s mother.
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Blind
The weather isn’t the real problem here. The turmoil and tempest in my mind keep shaking me, pushing me. At this point, the weather really doesn’t matter any more.
Each step that I take, each breathe that I breathe, each thought I conjure shakes me even more. Completely alone, I got no one, nothing to hold on to.
Yes, yes. Yes, this is it. This utter loneliness and seasickness. It doesn’t help that I’m sitting. It doesn’t help that I’m lying down. More and more empty beer, rum and whiskey bottles are broken behind my trial. And dying cigarette butts try to breathe more air to stay alive, just like me.
To be honest though, I know how to get out of this mess. I knew it all along. Thinking about it now, I don’t know why I endured for this long. Tip my self over and wait for the cold water to rush into me, that’s all I have to do. Lie down and wait.
This last whiskey bottle pretty much knocked me down on the floor. Now, the only thing left for me to do is to wait. The last thing I feel lying on this cold but embracing floor is life suffocating the lone cigarette.
Last Train
I don’t like counting days. When the end comes, it will come. But I guess, today’s the day.
I’ve been standing here for a while now. Bag slung around my shoulder, one hand on the pole and the other right by my side. There are people around me and you are right next to me.
Our hands brush in the moving train. At first, we nodded, shy of embarrassment. But now, we let it be. Our hands touch in this moving train. There are people around us and you are right next to me.
Time passes by but not this space. The space between you and I remain. Our hands brushing one another’s, our smiles meeting each other’s. No one is around us and you are right next to me.
I don’t like counting time. When the end comes, it will come. But, I guess the time is now.
I hate Good-Byes.
