As he stared at his own image reflected by the puddle formed by the seasonal rain, he looked back at his past.
He recalled how he was a few years back, and pondered on the thought. Slightly drenched by the early showers, well he had an umbrella but he chose not to use it. Maybe a little sprinkle of heavenly water would do him some good, but it didn't.
Lonely, slow, steady, an introvert. He walked by himself towards the underpass which led to the subway. Making his way home, dark clouds sped across the skies. Those thick, opaque, black puffs of cotton blocked out the sun, the wind grew strong and if you stopped to listen, you could hear it whistle.
Fortunately, he managed to enter the underpass as the first drop of rain fell from the sky and collided against the cemented walkway, like how an atomic bomb falls unto a barren desert, obliterating all the cacti and reptiles within its radius of devastation.
He succeeded in avoiding this storm and whispered to himself, "Thank God". Funny how just a moment ago how he thanked God for something else. If he ain't wrong, he murmured to himself, "Time flies, thank God". As if every moment spent conscious was a burden.
6 minutes he waited for the train to come, 6 minutes of his life wasted waiting, 6 minutes of his life killed, he told himself, comforting himself.
The sound of a huge chunk of metal being dragged across rusty steel tracks could be heard from a distance. Looks like the train had arrived. As he boarded, several people looked at him, twice the number of eyes looked at him. He looked back. Told himself how they were all strangers, just like everyone he has met in his life, and everyone else that he was going to meet.
43 minutes later he reached home, another 43 minutes wasted but another 43 minutes less in his life, another 43 minutes killed, 43 minutes left of boredom.
Finally, he is home. He entered his apartment in a very calm and solemn manner, locking the door, twice, behind him before taking off his coast and sitting himself down.
His phone would ring constantly and continuously until the caller on the other line would give up and hang up. He never answered.
If she calls to check up on you when she sees your facebook status indicating that you're very very sick, and accompanies you, checks up on you every now and then, asking if you're feeling better, and tells you that she cares for you and prays that you'll get well soon, she loves you.
If the title of your blog post is part of the lyrics from a certain song, and her following blog post's title are lyrics that replies to yours, she loves you.
If she constantly tells you how she likes certain songs, and wants you to learn them on the guitar so that you can play them for her to listen, she loves you a lot.
If you're at a pub, and she only gets water, but you insist that she drinks beer and take shots with you, and despite her low tolerance level for alcohol as well as the fact that her face turns embarrassingly red easily, she still drinks with you so that you don't have to drink alone and so that it makes you happy, she definitely loves you.
If you're watching a non-romantic movie with her and you tell her, "you're cold", and she cuddles with you in the theater and holds your hand tightly, trying to conduct the heat in her body to you instead of offering you her jacket, she loves you.
If she stays up and talks on the phone with you till the break of dawn, even though there's nothing to talk about and you're practically half asleep and simply mumbling, talking nonsense on the phone the entire night, saying irrelevant stuff that makes no sense at all, yet she patiently listens and intently pays attention to the sound of your breathing over the phone, she loves you, very deeply.
When its your birthday and she wishes you "happy birthday" a minute before your birthday actually ends instead of wishing you at twelve midnight when your birthday just began, she loves you, just that she's playing hard to get.
If you text her and she replies you even though her reply is a few hours late, she loves you.
If she's able to put up with your crap and listen to you talk about soccer for 2 hours straight over dinner, maybe even accompany you to watch an entire 90 minute soccer match during an ungodly hour, despite not knowing anything about the sport and couldn't care less about it, she's a patient girl who loves you.
Its late and you've gotta go home. She sends you home in a cab despite the inconvenient fact that she lives at the opposite corner of the country and still insists on paying for the cab ride even though you, yourself have insisted on paying several times, she loves you, she's waiting for you and wants you to reach home safely.
If her phone gets confiscated by her teacher because she was texting you in school, and she desperately finds other ways and means to contact you to tell you that she couldn't reply earlier due to the unforseen circumstance, she loves you, damn she loves you.
After going out with her, even though just for a very short while, just for a quick bite or some coffee or maybe just to see your face, and she texts you the minute you guys leave each other, she really loves you.
You go somewhere expensive for dinner to celebrate her birthday. The portion of food served is extremely small and really overpriced. She claims that she's full after two bites of her sirloin steak and offers the leftovers to you and insists that you finish the food for her although in fact she's famished and could eat another portion, she loves you.
If she supports Liverpool, but for you, she decided to support Manchester United instead, you're an exceptionally lucky guy blessed with such a sweet girl that you'll only meet once in a life time, so don't let her go.
-Theodore
I didn't exactly celebrate my birthday, but it was the bomb! Love all you bros man, brother for life! Hahaha.
I don't expect anyone to understand this post, here goes.
I was walking through this dark alley after i got out of the bar. After
everything.
It was noisy, smokey, crowded. Filled with tons of people, pretty and gorgeous girls, a hand full of rich men and I was performing my act. The crowd was wild, they loved me, they worshiped me, they liked what I did.
They'd make deals with me, million dollar deals, the rich men would.
The girls, they'd scream my name, hands reaching out towards me as I was performing. I'd look down and smile, saying "thank you" in my mind.
One day, during a performance, I just could not do this anymore. I decided to back out from the deals, I left.
I was an "almost-celeb".
Empty handed, no cash, no rich men to flood me with money, no gorgeous little girls by my side. I gave those rusty metal doors one hard push and walked out. It was pouring. I walked out from the back alley, high, it was dead as night, I began to look at the moon, said "Hi" to it, then continued to make my way home.
On my way back, I came across this beggar, he needed something to eat. But I didn't have any money. Instead of giving him food, I gave him a friendship.
I looked up again, I saw this star shining especially brightly. I gazed at it for hours, wondering, pondering, amazed at it. I conversed with it. It was a one-way conversation, but it was better than nothing. At least that was what I told myself. I rested on the cemented pathways along a deserted road. Laid down and continued looking at the star in amusement. There was something special about it, it seemed as if I knew her for centuries. A relationship that transcends time.
As I looked up, my eyelids felt as heavy as lead, before I knew it, I opened my eyes and there was light. It was day again, the star was gone. My star.
I sighed in disappointment and told myself, "The star has left with the darkness, must've followed the moon".
The star would come out every night, but it would be gone in the morning. On other occasions, it would be so cloudy at night that the star wouldn't be visible. "Where are you?".
I've decided, to give up looking up, to give up day dreaming of the getaway paradise in the navy blue night sky.
Today started off decently, nobody expected this tragedy to happen, nobody.
The day unrevealed itself slowly, innocently and cruelly, killing us, bit by bit. What a painful death.
It was A math Paper 1. When the teacher said, "You may begin", everyone excitedly flipped open the cover pages of the test script, and smiled, it was just simple old matrices and set theory. But after twenty minutes or so.
TADAH, (-everyone started flipping to the next page-)
One flip of the page was like flipping the happiness out of your soul. The questions were just, ridiculously difficult and it was obvious that whoever set the paper, was in an extremely foul mood when he/she was doing so.
After the paper ended, everyone walked out of the exam hall, STUNNED. Totally taken aback by this rare phenomenon of definite failure.
Here comes part two, pain in the ass.
A friend said, "Don't think too much, concentrate on physics, it'll be better don't worry".
Liars go to hell.
Physics, Paper one was already capable of giving everyone a suffocating sensation. It was like, their brains and body were not connected, they just didn't know the answer. Everyone was, freaking shocked damn it. Paper two, I'm officially speechless. Not too bad, but it wasn't enough to make my day. Well, any of ours for that matter.
After walking out from the exam hall for the second time today, knowing, you screwed two papers, the only way which you can most accurately describe it is:
The feeling of getting your dick castrated and sewn back on, and getting castrated again.
The end of the most depressing, demoralizing and disgusting examination day, has finally been complete.
Stupid Dog, took my sweater and wore it without permission and refused to give it back. When he finally decided to return what's mine to me, it came along with some china attitude and essence of a dick. Not even a word of thanks, so much for celebrating communism.
