Friday, December 07, 2012
I miss you, kgp
I hated people who would gather friends around and say shit like, "These are the best days of my life." I found that statement rather depressing. I thought life was long, things would happen, love would be found. I waited for times more exciting than sitting around in a room, not knowing how to spend waking hours. I can safely say I was wrong.
Sitting around alone in a room, whiling away time, I miss it.
Walking about the corridor lost in my head, jumping over water pools in the rain, surprised at the occasional water droplet in my eye. I miss it.
Catwalk, I miss you.
Patel's manhood, I fancied looking at you until I heard what they called you. I still fancied you, but only secretly.
Trees outside my window hiding me from the juniors in D-block, I miss you.
Stupid juniors, revering me like I'm Jesus, I wish you more brains.
The tennis court, I loved looking at you when it was raining. Just spelling it out, I'm sure you noticed me.
People on 2.2 saying Hi to me, I must've often seemed indifferent but just know I miss you too, if that soothes anything.
Scholsave. The Scholars' Avenue. You, saviour, you. What would I have done without you. Thanks for giving me my idols.
My hardwood bed, the missing spider, dear fornicating lizards, do you miss me too? Especially you, bed, who've you been sleeping with?
The wind. Oh Kgp wind, have there been more lovers like me? Do the trees speak to you like they did when I was there? Do you two whistle and creak still? Did you hear the story about the queer one?
Rain, you spoilt me. You might like to know I never opened my arms to anyone else like that again. I never slid and jumped in puddles again. I haven't stood on a car roof since. I never loved one of you again, never let myself fall ill and get hospitalised so I could stand in some more rain. I'm sorry I've been away, and I miss you terribly.
I miss my neighbour, the caring nanny who used to live next door. Thanks for saving my life one time.
I miss heartbreak. The sophomore who got hit in the nose by a senior. Funny, to think of it now.
I miss my flute.
I miss Patel's tempo shout. I miss the common room. I miss being the boss, the few times they let me be one.
What? No, I don't miss my Department. Sorry. Go away.
I'm doing well in my life, you know. I'm busy beyond capacity doing work that takes all of my creativity, and getting paid boatloads without even asking for it. This is the part where I do something with my life. And I'm doing it, bitch. But I miss things.
I miss aimlessness. I miss lying on the bed arranging shit in my head turning insights into one-liners, with Pink Floyd lulling me to sleep. I miss my speakers hanging from top of the window sill, those things filling my room and my being.
I miss random songs playing somewhere afar, in someone's room perhaps. I discovered Latika's Theme like that, and it ruined it a bit to finally know the nameless song I'd fallen in love with.
I still have my flute. It's still broken. It's just not mine. Like it never was.
I miss the 2.2 like hell. I miss the loneliness we shared. No matter how hard you're messed up in your head, a couple 2.2s can always set it right.
I miss a gazillion things, but what I miss the most are two.
I miss Bish, and I miss you, Kgp.
I took my time, but I miss you just fine.