Saturday, December 23, 2006

A Letter

To the Snob.

I hated you.
I hated you when you looked down on me because my task was menial compared to yours. And the fact that at least this time, you looked 'at' me didnt make a difference.
I hated you when you showed me again and again how superior to me, you were.
I hated you when I looked out of that window, wondering why in the world I took up your offer when the only reason you offered it at all was to feel superior. I wanted to back out so many times. But I didnt.

I still hate you.
I hate the fact that you gave me one word answers when I tried to start the proverbial conversational ball rolling. More than once.
I hate the fact that I felt uncomfortable in your world, while you felt right at ease in mine.
I hate the fact that every time you look at me and smirk your condescending smile, your eyes are mocking me and you're screaming in your head - "LOSER".

All this because I am not or ever will be part of that part of the universe that you think is yours.
I hate you.
I hate myself as well. Because somewhere down in my heart, I know fully well that I admire you. And I cant stand that.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Feeling Cold

You know how when you're on the verge of liking something or someone, something happens to put you off? When you look back and think - "Dang it! That could have been someone who I need around me now and what did I do? Pushed them away!" ?
No? Never felt that way?
Well, I almost did. You have no idea how close a call it was. But sometimes, when you're on the verge of being put off by something or someone... something happens.
Except now.. I wonder if the other person is looking back and thinking "Dang it!... "
Sometimes, its easy to fall into a crush. Or back into love. Or melt into comfortable, familiar depression. Especially when you're as terrified of change as me.
I'm scared. Something big seems to be looming ahead.
All this restfulness, the lethargy of yesterday seems to have been the calm before the storm.

When did every moment become such a burden and living through the day become such utter torture?