Unofficial Matters
The boy aimed his cigarette butt at the drain and flicked it precariously towards the narrow opening of the water way. But the trajectory motion of the cigarette remains simply fell short of the distance. It landed two inches from the drain and continued burning deeply into the filter. The boy, unable to suffer its agony stemming from his miscalculation, walked over hurriedly and snubbed it out with the sole of his shoes. Quite unnecessarily, he picked it up and tossed it right into the drain. This time, of course, it landed straight into the drain. He felt a relief of sorts.
How could two happiness-seeking souls be kissing so passionately in one moment and revert back to being ‘normal’ friends in the next? How could two strangers acquaint for slightly more than a month and progress to become a couple of togetherness? Why not? He really started wondering… How long did Adam and Eve meet before doing ‘you know what’? *_*
The exact words she said, still burning, flashes at the back of his rather perplexed mind.
‘I think it is happening too fast and I’m scared it will soon end.’
That took him quite a while to figure out a reply. He was at a momentary loss for words. And it takes a lot to rob him of his clever eloquence. He had wanted desperately to form an argument to counter her challenge that things which happened fast would end equally fast. An accident which happens in a split second may cause the victim grief and paralysis for the rest of his life. A poem which is written in a moment of haste may be savoured for a lifetime or more. The making of a baby takes, at best, half an hour, but requires twenty years to nurture. But these dumb arguments never did arrive. (Thankfully) Besides, this was not a political science essay. This was an emotion she was referring to. Tell me (alas, I betray his identity again), what good is an argument against a normative feeling?
Oh what a shame! Oh what a shame that Time should be a constraint on the speed at which feelings should develop. Time --- he cursed at it when it refused to prolong itself long enough for him to finish his exam paper; he laughed at it when he was in his teenage youth; he cried at its heartlessness when it took his grandmother; he squandered it when he had three months of holidays; he sees it each time he looks at his watch; he feels it each day when light submits to darkness. And now, with her, he didn’t really care about it.
The most obvious flaw that made Time so despicable and ugly now, was that it was too short.
The mild scent of her fragrance still lingered in his room though she had long gone. Paradoxically, the boy began to blame Time for being lengthy, but it was only a few minutes since she had left. Time is a slut. Thank goodness it was intangible and inanimate. Or he would really have wanted to sleep with it. Relativity is a slut too.
‘Damn it’ the boy exploded vulgarly. Damn it, he missed her.
How could two happiness-seeking souls be kissing so passionately in one moment and revert back to being ‘normal’ friends in the next? How could two strangers acquaint for slightly more than a month and progress to become a couple of togetherness? Why not? He really started wondering… How long did Adam and Eve meet before doing ‘you know what’? *_*
The exact words she said, still burning, flashes at the back of his rather perplexed mind.
‘I think it is happening too fast and I’m scared it will soon end.’
That took him quite a while to figure out a reply. He was at a momentary loss for words. And it takes a lot to rob him of his clever eloquence. He had wanted desperately to form an argument to counter her challenge that things which happened fast would end equally fast. An accident which happens in a split second may cause the victim grief and paralysis for the rest of his life. A poem which is written in a moment of haste may be savoured for a lifetime or more. The making of a baby takes, at best, half an hour, but requires twenty years to nurture. But these dumb arguments never did arrive. (Thankfully) Besides, this was not a political science essay. This was an emotion she was referring to. Tell me (alas, I betray his identity again), what good is an argument against a normative feeling?
Oh what a shame! Oh what a shame that Time should be a constraint on the speed at which feelings should develop. Time --- he cursed at it when it refused to prolong itself long enough for him to finish his exam paper; he laughed at it when he was in his teenage youth; he cried at its heartlessness when it took his grandmother; he squandered it when he had three months of holidays; he sees it each time he looks at his watch; he feels it each day when light submits to darkness. And now, with her, he didn’t really care about it.
The most obvious flaw that made Time so despicable and ugly now, was that it was too short.
The mild scent of her fragrance still lingered in his room though she had long gone. Paradoxically, the boy began to blame Time for being lengthy, but it was only a few minutes since she had left. Time is a slut. Thank goodness it was intangible and inanimate. Or he would really have wanted to sleep with it. Relativity is a slut too.
‘Damn it’ the boy exploded vulgarly. Damn it, he missed her.
posted by sUmmEr heAt at 10:30 AM
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