Being A Victim

‘OH NO’, she yelled.

I stood there facing her – as blunt as could be.

‘But… why, Jo? Why’d you do it?’

‘I had my reasons’, I said in a shallow voice. ‘I sat through high school, through college, through work – all the girls around me. I could not take it anymore. I was a victim, Shay.’

‘A victim?’, she sat down, breathing it all in. ‘You could have let me help you. You could have called, Jo. I would have run and come immediately. You know it!’

I looked down. I did know it, but I felt this was something I had to do by myself. I also knew that I had made a mistake.

She looked at me and frowned.

‘Shay, please say something’, I whispered in the awkward silence. I could not bear it for any longer.

She stood up, turned around, and then walked towards me. Slowly but calmly, she put her hand on my face.

‘What do you think?’ I asked

‘It is traumatizing,’ she smirked

‘WELL, THE LADY AT THE SALON SAID IT SUITED MY FACE!’

‘Well, sure, Jo, that is all she left on your head,’ she smiled

Stomping my feet, I left the room throwing what was left of my hair in the air. All I wanted was a trim not the route to baldness.

 

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Therapy of Sorts

Another night, another heart break – it felt like a recurring situation that had gotten me nowhere so far.
Like the amazing friends that they were, they stood firm through it all and came to me with our ritualistic solution.
“It’s time”, Jo said. I nodded.
Anna got the car keys, while the rest dressed me up. It was tough to get back outside and face it but, it was time to be happy again, or at least pretend to be.
Taking my wallet, my phone, my keys, and an extra lip colour just in case, we got into the car and off we drove. We played songs in the car and made our best attempt to karaoke an opera.
Finally, I could see it. It was buzzing; we rushed out of the car and made our way in. The lights, the smell, the people, I could already feel myself getting alright again. I took to the floor as I heard the music.
We sat around a table while my friend brought a bunch of drinks to the table. It had been so long, I was thrilled. I could feel the drinks hit me and relieve me almost instantly. I felt happy, hyper even. We sang along and clicked photos as we munched on the bits and I tried to keep my lip colour in place.
I loved it!
Finally, when it had gotten late enough, we collected our things and staggered and stuttered across the room. There came a voice behind us – “Thank you for coming!”
We looked back at our table which was lined with smoothies and empty burger boxes, and yelled back – “Have a good night!”
McDonald’s had always proven to be the best therapy.

 

A Love Like No Other`

“Good morning, beautiful”, I looked at her, sighing.

I wonder how I got so lucky to be able to wake up to her face every morning.

“Give me a second”, I said to her, “I will be right back”. I rushed to the kitchen to make me some coffee, and grab some breakfast.

I had a list of things planned for the day. I had to drive myself to work, and then join my friends for a dinner. I was up and about in no time.

Giving her a kiss goodbye, I left the house and went to the bakery where I worked. I started with the dough and hummed while I shuffled with the bowl. I was so in love, oh.

Sometimes I would turn around, and I would feel her by my side.

As the shop shut close, I changed into something decent and headed out to meet my friends, where it was only she who was waiting for me!

It was a date. We had the best conversation ever. We talked about work, and life, in general. We laughed so much, I could see people turning their heads (to report us, probably).

As I got up to escort her out, she had already gotten into a cab and I saw her pass me by through the window. What just happened? Why couldn’t she wait for me? Why did she run away like that?

Flushed with red, I got home and there she was – standing in front of me.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? IS THIS SOME KIND OF A JOKE TO YOU?” I lifted my fist and aimed it at her face.

Ashamed, I looked at my bloody fist and then at the broken face, the mirror had found someone new, someone shattered.

I finally removed my wallet and confronted the prescription that read ‘Diagnosed – Narcissistic Personality Disorder’.

The Moonlit Fable

I was ready. Strapped in and over prepared, I was thrilled beyond imagination. We had taken off.  I looked at the city below shrinking as we went further up.

This will be revolutionary – I thought to myself as I scanned multiple news articles. I had all my research stacked orderly in my bag. The destination was not too far now. Breathing hastily, I looked around to see what the clouds outside looked like.

The journey was long, I do not mean to complain of course, but it felt like days. It was probably because of the impatient adrenaline pumping within me.

Finally, we landed. It was a smooth one too! I unbuckled myself and rushed out the craft, ‘beautiful’, I thought to myself.

I sprinted there, rushing and clicking photographs, what a great story this would make. The history, the fables – revolutionised. I looked around for clues and prints, I became a make-do Sherlock Holmes, but I was hardly one.

I could be there forever, but I felt that there was something conspiring; something that was meant to be there but wasn’t.

Finally, I removed my diary from my bag and made a note –

Completed the journey of three days, yet, no footprints – and more so, no flag.

It’s a lie’

I jumped across the surface of the moon and returned to my spacecraft. Armstrong was the fable.

 

 

The Oceans Called It

It was finally time to set sail. Bikini, check, Suntan lotion, check, and a lot of water, check. It was going to be a vacation of sorts – I thought to myself.

Puerto Rico would host us for a week. It had been long since our family had gone on a vacation. We packed our bags into the trunk of our car and headed towards the port.

Calmly, we waved goodbye to the city and began the voyage. The sun was as bright as ever, and the sea was a joy in itself. I took a bucket load of photographs to hang on the wall once we got home. Sigh, only a week.

All four of us hadn’t been together in very long.

While we danced on the deck and obeyed the Captain’s instructions, I sometimes felt a blurred reality of the Titanic come to us when the ship swayed angrily with the tide. I have to admit, that scared me.

The nights would be long and scary, but everything about that ship made it worth it. The days had started feeling longer. Sometimes I would forget what day we were at.

‘Hey! Come here, I guess I see the shore!’ my father called out to me. Excitedly, I ran towards him, but he had mistaken a group of insignificant islands to be home. I smiled at him and walked back to my room.

I have sea shells in my bag, and pictures to fill the whole house. It felt like a trip that wouldn’t end.

Today is the eighty-ninth day of what was supposed to be a weeklong vacation, and I am waiting for my father to call out to me again.

‘Though initially, we wished it would never end, now I wonder when we will be home’ – I wrote in my diary as we floated in the triangle between Bermuda, Florida, and Puerto Rico.

The Bachelor Party

It was finally the day of his bachelor party. The last night of absolute freedom, it had to be grand! I had spent a lot of time figuring out what to get him, till I decided to be the best guy friend ever.

One thousand rupees for one night – it was the perfect deal. I called the other guys to confirm. It was his final day being single, and this is the only night we could be shamelessly kinky. It was to be a traditional party, one he was never going to have after tonight.

All of us guys giggled as we made the booking. It was going to be a night to remember – in all ways possible.

When his fiancee left for dinner, we arrived at his house timely (for obvious reasons). We got him a boy crown and a whistle to wrap around his neck. We tried to be as cheeky as we could be, but we had no idea how he would react even though most guys would jump at the thought of it. Will he like it? I had hoped he wouldn’t shun us, and most of all, I was worried about his fiancée walking in on us.

The bell rang, and there she was – dressed in red, with her tongue slyly between her teeth. All of us got excited. We stared unblinkingly and started patting each other.

Finally, he came – the man of the night. He stopped in his way as he stared at her and choked, slightly drooling and breathing heavily at the same time. We ran and placed a crown on his head as she shifted on all fours, calling him through.

He was shocked, and instantly scanned the room for his to-be wife.

‘She isn’t here’, I confirmed. He got excited and walked handsomely towards her.

As she sat on his lap and he folded his arms around her to close in, his fiancée entered the room and screamed.

‘HOW COULD YOU?’

He got scared and lifted himself up the sofa.  Struggling to find words, he kept shifting his eyes from his fiancée to us, and then to her.

‘Please, I can explain’, I got up.

‘THERE IS A DOG ON MY SOFA, JOHN.’ She yelled.

‘It’s a bitch’, I whispered.

The First Night’s Brew

It started off innocent. I had no idea what I was getting into. It became all that I wanted all through the day and the night.

It began on the date of our first night together. I had never met something so taxing and tough before. I tried preparing myself by the educated methods of breathing, drinking water, and everything I could, but nothing seemed to calm my nerves.

‘What a night it would be’, I thought to myself as I scanned through as many as fifty different emotions in my head. I thought it might be the dress I was wearing – giving too much away for the first night, so I changed into something more comfortable, I went with stripes.

I felt a little nauseous at the thought of how it was going to go, I could have vomited but when is that ever a good sign? I plugged my phone into the speakers and put on some music. Serenading myself, I swayed across the room, trying to get into the vibe.

I shuffled through the bed sheets, and shuffled a pen between my fingers to satisfy my fidgety arousals. I even considered calling it off or delaying it claiming I was unwell or anything of the sort – that seemed like an easy way out. Instead, I ended up calling my friend. You know how they say misery loves company; I thought I would get some decent advice apart from the usual ‘stay calm, just be yourself, and everything will be alright’.

I heard attentively while she suggested ways to go around it. She gave me tips – it could be the lighting, maybe the music, or that I should add a little energy to the room and everything. I considered it too.

I sat down and stared into the light, I went online and looked for ways to prepare myself for the night – and I saw it! I decided to go for it. I walked out and looked for the most aesthetic cups. I laid out a box and the sugar jar. I blended everything as the site suggested, and there it was – a steamy, lip smacking cup of coffee.

It looked so inviting; I carried it over to my table and sat staring into the table light. There lay my books for the next day’s exam along with all of my friend’s advice. With my hair in a bun, and my most comfortable striped pyjamas on – I flipped through the pages of my tenth grade science textbook with a spirit I would say I never had before.

It was addictive, I relied on it time and again, and there was my life in front of my eyes – a lifelong partner in all times – happy, sad, bored, not bored, no reason at all! Just the kind of thrill and commitment I needed in my life – an obsession with hot cups of coffee, any time of the day.