Then again, who needs a family and a husband? Get me the men and let me party, and I won’t ask to be sent home at midnight. Give me somebody to hold me and fill up my glass when it’s getting empty (like right now, dammit) and once in a while, to kiss my nose. That sounds fun to me. I should have done what I wanted to, tonight. If I have the courage, I’ll do it tomorrow. Or not. Exam early next day and all that. Well, maybe on Wednesday. And thus I continue to fool myself I can be brave when I’m actually a little coward hiding in her suffocatingly hot flat.
Felt so sorry for the parents, stuck in this hole and that in this heat. They both looked iller when they left this evening. (Yeah, so I used a word that doesn’t officially exist. So? Sue me, why don’t you? Only, make sure you get into line first.)
Ooh, funny news for all. I have my pigtails back. Beq, do you remember me with my pigtails? Don’t they look funny? I think I’ll wear them everyday. Were it not for my face which seems to look older and graver every day, I would pass off as a schoolgirl still, perhaps. The question is, would I want to?
And my face is just being silly, because I’m happy underneath its strange new look.
It’ll be sad losing my flat in a way, because I won’t be able to type out blogs in my underwear like I’m doing now, or sleep naked or do any other such comfortable thing. But then, I won’t be alone all the time, that can’t be all bad, right?
Still on the subject of parallel universes, there’s one where I never left Calcutta. I wonder how happy I am in that one. Probably deeply miserable or dead. Thank god I’ve lived in so many places. Vicky can go screw himself, I will travel as much as I want to, and take my kids with me. And if the dog likes, it can come too. The cat I draw the line at. Cats don’t like travelling anyway.
It seems fitting that on the day something precious enters my life, six years later, something equally precious is sent away. It seems just. If I can cope with one loss, I can cope with two and then the others after those two. Sometimes, being flippant is the only way to cope with these things. In a hundred years, who’ll care about my life or what went out of it? So why should I care now either? And if I stick to the present, there’s enough to occupy me, like how to get rid of the allergic reactions on my arms, when to get up for the next drink, when to get dinner, whether to just go to bed and sleep till tomorrow, and important decisions like that. And another thing: I’m sick of drinking and not getting drunk. And I don’t like mosquitoes, particularly the one biting me all over now. Being semi-clothed does have its disadvantages, to be sure. Grumble grumble… mutter…