The Other Blog

The following is a letter I wrote to a former best friend (she was my girlfriend for some time too). I wrote it in the bus on the way to college. The person for whom the letter was written has not read the letter, and I doubt she ever will, because at the time of writing this, we were on the path to the recovery of our friendship (after we’d broken up, of course), but now we’re not on talking terms, apparently. She will not be named, but I guess you know who it is anyway. Sadly, it’s not dated, but I guess it was written sometime around Feb-Apr, 2006.

Sorry for my crappy handwriting. I’m writing this in the bus on the way to college at 8.00am, listening to Godsmack’s version of “Sweet Leaf” as loud as my MP3 player can play it, drowning out (or attempting to drown out) all the other sounds, staring at the grey world outside. After days of scorching pre-summer heat, it rained last night, and like Birdman’s conjugate, I seem to draw fresh life from the rain. Sky Grey is officially my new favourite colour. I can’t put in words with pen and paper the way this weather makes me feel, amplified by the very effective amplifier of the MP3 player… it’s like a reason to live, all over again. It’s good to be alive to be able to look at the beauty of this world and know that I’m still here. It’s insane the way one thought leads to another and I’m conscious now of how I may be one of the only people on this bus to feel something of this magnitude just because of the colour of the sky…

My thoughts also wonder to one of the last poems I wrote - the central theme of which is my loneliness… And since you’re etched so deeply in my past, each one of my thoughts seems to bring me a memory of you. Do you remember how you once considered yourself The Lone Wolf before you met me? I feel like that now. I am alone, and although it hurts sometimes, I’m getting used to it. I also live in the hope that She’s out there, waiting. All of a sudden, on the MP3 player, Savage Garden - “I knew I loved you before I met you…”. I’m smiling… I’m fine, I’m always fine… I don’t know if you still think of yourself as the Lone Wolf, but now I do… I’ve only been in love once, and I’ve never been the same ever since… Sorry if anything I just wrote was wrong or hurtful… I just wanted you to read my mind again.

Love,
Gurdit
(The Lonely … )

You could sell yourself to get a life, but where do I buy peace of mind?

Sometimes, it’s just so frustrating to think about writing and then having to worry about it being good. The thought and direction of what I want to write sometimes gets lost in the attempt at beauty in the words. I’ve never been one to have a stunning message to deliver in most (maybe all?) of my posts. What I write is good (if it is) primarily because of the way I write it.

But what’s wrong with that? ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ is one of my favourite books to read, and there are 2 passages that stand out in my memory, mostly because of the magic that Dickens has created with those words. I won’t tell you which ones of course, because I’d rather you learn to appreciate things by yourself, rather than I tell you what to appreciate or how to appreciate it.

FUCK YOU!

Ever had the desire to just go to your roof-top and scream that out… to no one in particular… just to everything in general?

So have I.

He pushes the door hard. It opens and bangs against the wall. The room is dark and silent, quite the opposite of the chaos outside. The storm is clear to see if you walk out the door, into the night. Snow falls hard, with a vengeance, trying to bury you under its silent white fury. The wind is a little less silent. You’d be lucky to be able to hear yourself screaming for help on a night like this, while you hold on to your clothes, hold on to anything to prevent flying away with the wind. Or maybe hold on to your sanity, while you wonder why the Gods have sent this tempest down. Where is this storm? I see it… I see it now. Do you see it?! DO YOU SEE IT?! LOOK NOW! THE SUN IS GONE, NEVER TO RISE AGAIN… are we going to never see the sun again? COME BACK!

And yet, he stands at the doorway. The white light behind him blurring the edges of his silhouette, giving him an errie look, while he stands panting… maybe waiting for his breath to catch up with him… maybe waiting for sanity to catch up with him. But the time for sanity is gone. Now everything is different. Everything must go. Everyone must die… death does not discriminate.

Eyes red… hands shaking… heart pumping… fist rearing… ears ringing… FUCK IT! STOP! STOP IT!

NO!……. what? who are you? Where are you? Where are you in my head?

He walks into the room, not conscious of what he’s doing… A mirror in the corner… there’s a mirror in the corner… I know there’s a mirror in the corner here… I know it’s a mirror… I know… when I turn on the light and look into it, I’ll see a monster… mirror.