The day when my status was 666

This has been the second half of a jaded quartet of a month. The second consecutive week of me refraining from any, mind you any outdoor ventures. This quite UN-ashamedly includes, not going to university, (which I have just been latched onto) not attending cultural gatherings, not turning up to meet friends, some of whom will be leaving/have left town, not answering calls, not replying to texts, and worst of all, not smiling that often…

Its been about 4 months since I completed studies and stuff, and a month since I started the successive second half of my, well, studies!!!

But somehow, somethings, are just not over for me, or lets say, somethings have not yet begun,

and well the rest of it, am still waiting for it to happen.

I don’t know though, that something I am waiting for.

But I know it quite clearly, absolutely crystal.

This crystal, shows me my future, and works quite effectively on weekday afternoons... 

~~~~

It’s all smiling faces, everywhere around, trying to make shiny and ample little fireflies smile, which hide and seek with the sun, and often roost beneath stolen glances.

Often, these cellophane smiles are too welcoming, too alluring, and sometimes, the cellophane smiles, crunch into crisp wisps of whispers, hushed and loud, often putting my vaulted self into the spot-light.

I don't like being put into the light, unless the switch is in my hand.

They are always bent on welcoming me, and nagging at me to talk, laugh, smile and roost with them. They all talk, always sky-wards, no one ever looks into no-ones eyes,...never,ever.

They never glance, or gaze at what is placed before them, a sheepish screen of smoke and childishly bartered imbecilities hangs between them. Between all of them.

As I said, they always speak upwards, sometimes; I wonder whether they are speaking to God. They might also be cushioning tears, and sending them back, just like they did the night before, while masking themselves with their pillows.

They always sit in a circle, quite like an orange, or perhaps Jupiter? They also have satellites of sheepish smokers, who pass-the-pillows, with imbecility slab. They all wear brittle glasses to shield their eyes, even on a cloudy day. They all strum chords, and sip coffee to keep the ritual growing. They all wear glasses, but even with a pair more, they can never really look into the eyes, into each others eyes,

And the greatest conversations are thus left out.

~~

The week will grow up, will crawl and ultimately stand on its feet. And the week will beckon me. I will get up, take a bath, get dressed, line my eyes with dark dark kohl, and then, just when I am about to leave, I will…

Just not leave…

Maybe tomorrow, then?