Oh My God! You're One Of THEM!!

8th Oct, 2001.

She: You know that mail I sent you?

Me: yeah. What about it.

She: You have any idea what I'm trying to getting at?

I nod.

She: ET. I can't talk to you when I want to. I can't see you when I want to. And you know I like you so much. It makes me feel so bad.
(Pause, probably for effect.)
Don't do this to me.
(Pause, this time waiting for me to respond.)
Atleast say something.

Me(fucked. Dunno what to say.): You remember while coming back, on the train.. you asked me something?
(She shakes her head.)
(I pounce on the chance, or atleast try to capitalize on the fact that she doesn't remember.)
Why do you like me?

She (bounces back, deuces the round.): I've told you. One way or another.

Me (barely audible): Is it cuz of the corny face?
(And then loud enough to hear..)
Or is it because I hardly speak?
(I dunno what I'm saying and why I'm saying. Probably yapping for the heck of it.)

She (Obviously confused.): Why are you doing this to me?
(Pause)
And I feel sooo....
(breaks off..)

Me (Last resort.) : I love you.

She (staring at her feet, speaks softly) : I love you too.

I feel like holding her then and there, on the B-block turn, in CP. She has her back against the wall. But I'm too fuckin 'decent. And scared. She might break into pieces or something. She's not to be touched. Only stared at once in while. Or spoken to when she permits.
We shake our heads, and I lead her to her car. She has to pick up her ma from the airport at 730, and I look at my watch and its 7. This entire conversation took over an hour I guess.
-----------------------------
Song: Angie (Rolling Stones.)
Cigarette Count: 7 + 3 in the room right now.

The first time I was faced with such a situation. About lack of communication. This was the 7th or 8th time I had met her in over a year. Wtf. What a loser. I should have met her more often. Now what is this? Why are all my regrets coming out.. no. Rolling out, all of a sudden? We hardly used to talk on the phone, partly cuz my mother acted freaky, and partly cuz I never made the effort. Cuz whenever I'd call her, I'd start jumping inside, scared to death, like.. man. I'm calling her. I'm calling her. And finally, I'm calling her. So anyways, that had been the worst day of my 16-yr old life. I had 20 bucks left on me, and it was getting late, and I was a little uncomfortable about travelling in buses then. So first an auto walla suckered me into paying him 20 bucks to drop me off to Minto bridge. I was left with no money, but I anyways took another one, got out Balloons place, and borrowed some odd 80 bucks from him. I entered home, still shaken, and was confronted by Ma. I could not convincingly tell her where I'd been, and that was the first time I was asked whether I was on drugs. I told her I had been out to see D, and she asked me 'why?'. What do you say to that? I mean, what is it with females? What sort of sick pleasure do they get out of asking people answerable to them, questions which have no answers? Why can't the questions be like "Do you like me?" or "Do you like her?", instead of "How much?". My life, as I know it, in the past 6 and a half years, has revolved around THEM.

And I know that this is universal. People all over the world, and in parallel universes, are forced to lead this sort of a torturous, unbalanced life. Unbalanced, cuz of questions which have no answers. but fortunately, there are ways to escape. And I think I'm going to do jus that. I'm gonna have another smoke.

Song: Its Only Rock 'n Roll (Rolling Stones.)

" If I could stick my pen in my heart
I'd spill it all over the stage
Would it satisfy ya, would it slide on by ya
Would you think the boy is strange? Ain't he strange?
If I could win ya, if I could sing ya
A love song so divine"