The Girl I love

I feel certain that I am going mad again…

The black spray paint tarnished the beautiful white wall of my room. I was painting a graffiti around the Virginia woolf quote that I had written on the wall. I love the way she writes, the way she creates a beautiful world with her words. I wish I could write like her someday. I want to write a book that people can drown into and wake up to a new world that is far away from the real world. I wish I could find a path to my parallel world. Will I be accepted there? My thoughts, my rebellious nature, my weirdness; ah! to hell with acceptance.

The train of thoughts is interrupted by a loud thunder. I look away from the graffiti for a second to see the rain patter on the window pane. It’s been raining for the past one week and it is certainly not fun anymore. I am itching to smoke but it will drive my mother insane. I was in class 12 when she first caught me smoking. Between me and my brother I am the spoilt one. My brother has always been in her good books whereas I on the other hand am the black sheep. She doesn’t approve anything I do, from the books I read to the colour of my hair. She thinks I was spoilt by my father and yet she was not ready to give me to him when they decided to separate. She thinks I have been getting worse since the divorce. I am constantly driving my traditional and conservative mother crazy with all the naked paintings and the graffiti on my walls. Why are you so different? She asks me at least once every day, like it is a bad thing to be different. She also thinks I should meet a shrink. What will he/she know about me that my mother doesn’t? Can a shrink change me or the way I think? Nobody is going to approve you for who you are and you don’t need their approval. They will eventually get used to the way you are and either accept you or reject you; again it doesn’t matter what they think or do!

I had painted my room black except for one side of the wall. I painted that one side yellow because it is a happy colour. Yellow reminded me of the beautiful things about my life. When my parents loved me and my brother and when the family stood together. When I was that happy, happy girl and my parents loved each other unlike now, where my father is busy satisfying another lady while my mom plays it cool while the ground below her has collapsed and we are all dangling on that little string of imaginary hope she tied across stars for us not knowing that the stars are also burning the string now.

I was sitting by the wall near the door with a cigarette in my hand contemplating if I should light it or not while the rain outside drowned my beautiful, fragile city that has sunk in every cell of my body. This is the city where I found my love for music, books, love and sex and cigarettes of course. The first time I smoked was after I had sex with my school sweetheart. It was not an out of the world experience because we both didn’t know what we were doing but I loved him more than anything else in this world. I then started loving cigarettes more than him and the sex, well not with him but sex in general! Sex with him was probably the first moment of revelation for me. And later after few months in college, I realized that I did not enjoy having sex with men. I realized that I should first learn to accept myself for others to accept me for who I am. I then eventually realized that there is going to be atleast one in ten people who are going be disgusted about the fact that I am not straight. Not straight… different! I decided that in this very room, at this exact place that I am sitting in right now that I don’t need acceptance and I was smoking then. I miss smoking now as I stare at the cigarette in between my fingers.

Every day I sit in this little room in which I have created a world for myself and think of things. Things like college, the next paint colour for my room or if I should just stick to black, I wonder if I should start singing and writing more when a line or two appears on my head I write them on a sticky note and stick it to the board or somewhere around it so I don’t forget what I thought. I flicked this idea from Theodore Finch. What a beautiful book it is, All the bright places. Sometimes I read my own journal and ponder over my greatness. I then think of her. I think of the girl of my dreams, the girl who will not show her face to me but will tease me with her risqué and wit. I heard a bling from my mac. Think of the devil, I smirk and run to my study table.

“I am now fallen; stardust envelops me” she had commented on my original status which just said Caught up in my own tangles of confusion, I am going to die a slow death without the sight of love, my love. My best friend Meghna had liked and commented on it asking if I wanted scissors to cut myself out of the tangles. She didn’t understand what I was talking about or for who that status was and so as usual she came up with her nonsense to irritate me. Many had liked it and also commented on it but I was waiting for her comment and she had commented after 2 days. She has quoted Virginia Woolf. I felt my heart racing up to my throat and my head throbbing in excitement. I throw the cigarette aside and pull a chair and sit by the computer getting ready to type my response.

“Who shall measure the heat and violence of a poet’s heart when caught and tangled in a woman’s body?” I quote Virginia Woolf again. I tell her that in the context of I am longing to see her but she will never understand it. She is my new drug now, my new addiction, an addiction that made me dump the cigarette. I sit by my table and stare at the screen of my little laptop. I badly need a smoke now but more than the smoke I need her reply!

Few months back, I started getting notes to my table at college. The note said that she cannot keep her eyes off me and that she wants to drown in my gloomy grey eyes and untangle the complicated brain of mine. At first, I thought it was someone who is playing a prank on me but the notes started frequenting and I couldn’t ignore them after she had written that she cannot sleep at night because she cannot stop thinking of me and how it would be to have me by her side in the bed. I conceded and left her a note at my table. Slowly, she started suggesting me the clothes I should wear and how I should tie my hair. She eventually found me on social media and became my anonymous follower. She plays with words on my statuses and hit my weak spot. I am enamoured to her. The notes became letters and now I can write her a novel which will tell her how much I long to see her face and feel her lips on mine.

This is my lover girl. Teasing me every day without knowing the amount of torture she puts me through without revealing herself.

Bling! Another comment…

Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.” she was quoting shakespeare now. From Woolf to Shakespeare, woman you are driving me mad I laughed at her response. She was dodging me again and feeding my curiosity that is long dead and taken a new form – Starvation. I was not even longing but starving to know who she is. It was more of a physical pain than a heart that is longing to see the face of the person it loves. I tap the table with my fingers for a while and click on reply.

“How do I know what I think until I see what I say” I wrote and make the thread visible only to me and her so others don’t interrupt our conversation. I wait nervously, staring at the screen for her to respond.

“By the side of the everlasting why there is a Yes… a transitory yes if you like, but a Yes.”

E.M. Forster… E.M. Forster… it’s like I had forgotten everything I had read so far. Chuck this I thought and replied, “Does this mean you are going to show yourself???”

2… 5… 10… I refreshed the page again and again but she did not respond. And just like that, she’s gone. She is not going to respond I knew it when I clicked her name and the “content cannot be displayed” message gets thrown at my face. I smile and close my laptop dreaming about this woman who is whisking me often and making my heart thump at least a million times a day! Now screw acceptance, screw the world, I am in love and I know she loves me too. One day I am going to meet her and we will prove that there is a happily ever after.

When I pick the cigarette in my hand, the phone rings and I see the call is from a private number.

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