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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Part 5: My Secret Friend

Submitted: May 17, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 17, 2012



My Secret Friend

It had been quite a long time I had seen the real me in the mirror. And for the past couple of months whenever I looked in to it, I could feel it was someone else who possessed my image. My eyes, those once beautiful, all time winking, charming eyes seemed as if it has lost all of its eyelids. It seemed to me as if I was tired, rotten and sad. It had never been this way with me before, because I could always hide even the hint of my sadness beneath my skin. And I could do that because there would be people around me. And sadness being exposed before others always teased me. The eruption of such sentimental expressions would have exposed on my face long ago. Back then when I was living with my parents. Back then when console seemed more like a care and less like a laugh. Back thenwheni never knew what loneliness was.Back then....

The first time I flew to another country, I was ten. While departing, all my friends had said, with time I will forget them all. I never agreed to them and said whatever happens I will be their friend for ever. That day I was missing all my dear friends badly. We all seemed too attached to each other. But my attachment was for a short while until my arms were pulled by my mamma to get on to the stairs of the jet that was about to fly me to Dubai where I had spent my next twelve years, after which, with a degree in science and two years of work-experience letter, I asked my papa who was at that time reading a newspaper, if he would lend me money to do my masters in a different country. He raised an eyebrow and looked at me through the specs and his bushyeyebrows which made me smile sweetly, that made him smile wickedly, that bought me my flight ticket to Sydney leaving my mamma cursing my papa all the time at “their” home.

At the beginning of my new life in Australia, I would go to university thrice a week and bring myself a dozen new friends each time. Early morning of every Sundays I would go to church keeping in mind, set of wishes that was to be answered by dear God. And early evenings, we girls would go to beaches to admire the hot hunks and to envy the bikini babes. Late every night, when the tedious studies bought an itching in my little brains I would open up my Facebook to upload photos to share with my friends. Done with a semester, and I would write on my Facebook to-do-list for my holidays. And during holidays I would feel alone when all my dear friends would go to meet their mommies or perhaps new boyfriends. And when I felt lonely I would call my parents on Skype and would have a long talk with them.

When it was felt on to me that I should be more independent I felt the need to earn my own money. A month later, I was earning enough peanuts to survive when I started working part-time for a local book shop. A Mag shop with a coffee shop where I would helppeople buy their choice of books and recommends them my choice of coffees. I would make all types of coffees and would experiment with coffee arts on it. Little girls would get a coffee, surfacing on which would be cream of flowers, while growing guys would seem proud looking at the floating six pack abs on their coffee. Lovers would buy little hearts designed on their mug while guys who seemed too flirtatious would find themselves buying from me cappuccino showing arrow stabbed heart in a bloody cream. But I would get our good friendly readers a cup of mochachino, of which I was growing more and more addicted every day.

It had been fun every day every minute of my life until one day when I felt I was looking at the elderly gentleman in blue jacket and who was puffing out rings through his cigar, seated across me and who was returning my looks.

Over a cup of coffee, I was offered a job to work with him and his crew, a job that I had never dreamt about. I was awake that whole night and I did not sleep the whole of next day thinking where would that job take me. Three days later, holding in my hands an agreement that I had signed with that elderly gentleman in blue jacket, I started dreaming about the new adventures that was about to come in my life. And it was then that I felt more and more proud of myself and all my friends’ subsidiary.

And when I happened to be living this new life style, I was quite enthused about my outcome and income. Every weeknight I would sit before my laptop and would see the figures dropping into my account. And every late-night I would dream of being an angel flying down from high above crossing every curve of this beautiful mother earth, to be seen by people living under my world. When I started realizing that my dreams were coming true, I would dream more and more and much more.

But, as the time rolled by, I realized God had kept in store for me something else.

As the time rolled by, I felt I was listening to the sarcastic comments calmly from our dear ladies but I could not do anything about it.

As the time rolled by, I felt the need to control my urge to slap the bitch who seemed to enjoy gossiping every bit of false information about me.

As the time rolled by, I found myself being nothing but rude to everyone around me.

As the time rolled by, I felt I should have told papa what I have gotten myself into.

As the time rolled by, I just did not care for anyone. I would just drop by to work and I would go home to live a life.

Days changed to months and months changed to a year, and gradually I felt, in these industry men were scoundrels and women were arrogant bitches. And lately I was realizing that I could never be a part of it. I felt the need to retain my old soul. My old real charm.


I still remember the last mail from my friend who had suggested me not to ever write her any letters…perhaps…because…well I never wrote her any letters since I finished my studies and took up this job.Since the receipt ofthat mail, for the past six months I had been trying my best to contact anyone of them on their email id only because I was not having their new phone numbers. They never cared to drop it to me. May be they must have felt certain I would never write to them anything again. So just to feel less insulted they must have written something like that. I could understand that feeling. I respect them. After all, it was more than two years that I had been in touch with them.

Lately, I had been giving lots of thoughts of the friend thing that was missing in my life. My profession had led me to a very well decorated hell where none of them would be my friends and whoever were my friends they felt I had ignored them in my perfect days. Sometimes I would lay myself on my sofa and think about my school days. We would never invite any boys to our gang. We never felt the need for it .We had always felt of boys as the dirtiest critters on earth who always try to take advantage of girls.

Till the beginning of our high school, we hardly had any good conversation with any boys of our class. We would use boys to get our home works done. All we had to do was to stick a smile to our face and ask them if they would be comfortable in lending their hands in doing our home works in classroom .Boys are such a suckers sometimes. They would do anything to prove that they have impressed a girl easily. And later, we all girls would gather together in school canteen and fun about our achievement in fooling around a guy so smartly.

I had always felt that boys were the most complicated of living things on earth. It had been quite difficult for me to understand if they were happy or sad, if they were angry or calm, if their feelings were true or fake, if they were stubborn or arrogant. And these kinds of people, who confused me, had always scared me.

After joining this profession I happened to meet lots of men. Dated lots of them. I had seen many of them monkey around me that was actually quite funny and cute of them and which would make me self-possessed to an extent to look down at such pieces of suckers who do not possess something called self-respect. My profession needed me to be confident otherwise I was simply not fit to be working in this place. Even if I was broken completely with in, I always managed my external displays of looks, to look confident. Perhaps years of my experience led me to pretend this way. It seemed to me that the whole of my life was a movie in which I was an actress who could do nothing more than act. To act.

I could act sadly if someone wanted me to be sad before them while repeating their sad anecdotes. I could pretend to be reveling, though their words never bought any happiness in me. I could be flirtatious before a guy who looked like seeking me desperately. I could show my arrogance in a sexiest way if I felt something was harassing me. I would seem to be careful listener, when actually I would be thinking of having little supper to feed the rats running in my belly.

I never understood why I was living for people. Why the heck should I laugh for a joke that never made me laugh? Why the heck should I be sad for someone’s continual stupid sad stories? Why the heck should I flirt around with a man who never turned me on? Perhaps I simply never wanted to be alone in my life. So I would keep everyone around me happy to keep them from going, how much ever pathetic they were in their attitude.

I secretly wished I could pull out myself from this crazy world I was living in. A crazy world of miscellaneous people. I wanted myself not to retrograde to this world where only sweet egoism was in need to talk to people. I wanted to speak to someone casually but not to be dumb and swing my head in gesture, listening to someone’s bullshit all the time.

I wanted no games; I wanted no enemies; i wanted no pretensions; I wanted no bullshits.

I wanted sharing; I wanted feelings; I wanted teases.


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