I wrote this while I was on an airplane sometime around December 17th 2010. I do remember the context, and I guess one day I’ll finish it.

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And it began: the dance of love, without the glory or the joy. I was alone again, surrounded by people, but very lonely. I wanted to make a point, put my foot down. I wanted to show myself that I could. I failed. She showed up again, unannounced. It was a terrible habit of hers. Stopping by, just to torture me some more, and then vanish, robbing me of any chance for retaliation. I tried to force her out, but to no avail. She stayed and watched, piercing me with her eyes. I refused to acknowledge her, but we both knew it wasn’t possible. Sweat was running down my face, and every time I looked up, there she was, staring at me. Maybe it was the Ritalin, or the extra burnt coffee, I couldn’t be certain, but she was there and that, I’m sure. She seemed lonely, missing me perhaps? Who knows, but people tend to miss me. Well, not me, but what they see of me, which is different with each individual. I can be calm, polite, rude, and everything else in between. People rarely care about whom I really am, they just want me to entertain them. Like a clown, as long as the painted face is smiling, everything else is irrelevant. But she always cared.

“You look good on paper” is what one of them once told me. It was my own line that she was spitting back at my face, either assuming I’m an idiot, or simply forgetful. I even remembered when I used it. It was to describe her ex-boyfriend. And now, she was using it on me. Why? Maybe she wanted to feel smart, who knows? I guess my lack of interest was pouring out of skin, because she left early and so did she.

I don’t think I can ever be modest…