Can I have the reflex of trust

VROOM!
I strain my neck to look up. I know the voice,heard it many times before. Looking up ,when a aeroplane goes by seems like a reflex to me.
It comes as a reflex to me like a few months back calling her my best friend was a reflex. But I outgrew that one. These series of blogs its sort of my last ritual to really get rid of my self her presence.
I met her when I was sixteen and we just hit off. I was proud of her like she was my shiny little toy. She was the new girl and I was big nobody,overweight and rough. I
Sort of took her under my wings but it seems she was always too bright to be hold. She was better then me in everything be it studies or sports you name it.
Those days were fun. Mainly because I don’t yet start mastering at the art of jealousy.(spoiler alert,I am ALWAYS bad guy here)
The ferocity of exam mellow down after curriculum changes to grading system. It seem as if thousand of collective breath of students let go at once.They become a matter of ease. Nobody remain afraid of them anymore. What I basically do all day is watch film and sitcoms telling my mother I am trying to improve my English and it bloody work every time. My father half sister love for anything having large mouthed English words also helped.

I was never famous with boys. Apart my large bones and larger fatty tissue I was also a snobbish girl. I was a girl which hate people better than her,who has vanity around people worser than her and tolerate  people like her but still manage to label them irritating half a dozen times.I I was just a bad ass. I am still uncomfortable around boys but finds myself opening to them easily. I see in them a challenge. They are different, its like you have all your life eaten corn flakes and tasted oats for first time. Its refreshing,yes. But you are bound to get bored. They are like a puzzle to me, I solved them once and then I want something new or they will get stale and I will move on. You have my attention until you engage me. Turn mundane and you will see my attention wane. These are not the qualities of a trusted friend. I am like a local product which will serve you best for a few weeks but would not hold your hand forever. Sorry.

But I still got lucky and make few friends. Three to be exact. We were thicker than Caroline cousins. We all have our role in the group. I was the sarcasm queen. Still am.
I hate people who bully others but finds myself getting dominated among friends. To be honest I cannot understand how anyone want to be my friend and why such good ones. In retrospect I feel I didn’t deserve them. I feel sometimes I am so bad why anyone would love me and then the cynic in me kick in and I see the world as a loveless whore trying to fake it. It become difficult accepting a smile.
I try to embrace my cynic like a long lost sister. It has helped me a lot to get over my territorial behavior for her. It make it easier to let her go and even thankful for it. But(that’s a very nasty word right here) then I see it. It came unbidding and force me to look at it, makes me forlorn and guilty. When the goodness shine and you let it seep it all in, it question you. It ask you is it worth it. Is not knowing the pain cover for the happiness of being together. I cringe mentally when I see the photos of people in group laughing.I become jealous of them. then I try to picturise myself with them, but it never come whole. I see myself as a fake,plastic.
Maybe I am still looking for her. A girl who could understand me. Take me as I am. Wouldn’t judge me or tell me to change myself. Who will know why I do certain things at times when I myself forgets. I know its possible cause I have once befriend a girl like that when I was sixteen.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s