Killing the feminist

she-All boys want one thing at this age.

me-Oh so you mean they get better once they are older? Do they get wiser and want other things?

she-Don't be cheeky, yes THEN they are mature. At this age they are all out to have fun.

me-I don't believe you.

she-You think they aren't jerks?

me-Uh not that, I don't believe you when you say they'll get better, wiser, mature-er whatever.

she-We are just trying to protect you.

me-I know.

But....how much longer???!

she- Till you're mature enough to handle them yourself.(sub-textually- Till you get married, sub-sub-textually-till you get arrange married)

me-How does it make a difference, when it all boils down to the one thing, which they'll obviously want even when I'm mature enough to know that that's all that they want.

she-But you'll be older then.

me-Wait...so do you want me to be older and more mature, so I can try and find someone who wants the one thing, but is from an Ivy league college, good looking and has a great sports car? I already know what they want. Geez, frankly this is not even the kind discussion I want to be having with you right now. It's awkward and inappropriate.

she-But we are the only people who really care about you. Plus there is the whole deal about the hormones at this age. You know boys and their wild, raging hormones.

me-Ugh! No. Please not the hormones. I refuse to talk about the hormones with you, esp ones that are wild and raging!

she-Why? You know you can talk to me about ANYTHING.

me-Uh..no. Not boys.

she-okay. alcohol? There was alcohol too at the party right?

me-oh ya, vanilla vodka..awesome!

she-WHAT?

me-kidding. I hate alcohol.

she-yes, please hate alcohol and cigarettes.

me-and boys.

she-yes boys. Specially boys with alcohol and cigarettes.

me-oh cmon, you're freaking me out. Are they that bad.

she-yes, at this age, the hor-

me-don't say it!

she-they get better, but not right now, right now they think with their DI-

me-aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!! i'm blocking you out now!!!!!!!!( sing latest hindi movie song at the top of my voice)

she-you get the message.

me-no alcohol. no cigarettes. no boys.

Wrong words (wrong place, wrong time)- said unassumingly to the right person
Motion sickness, passing lights, the radio, choking on my heart.

I'd play "Guess who?" over the phone, or in the corridors when I covered your eyes from behind your back- and now I sit here with a heart that seems to be swimming in my stomach making it hurt so bad that I want to spit it out.

The wrong color, I tell myself. Let's pretend like that matters, because I don't want to acknowledge the things that really do- like what you are actually thinking in your head.

You're part figment of my imagination, I lie back against the seat, close my eyes and dream you up. And yet when I open them, you are there-so real, reflecting off my sunglasses and smelling like heaven. I can't decide between the former and the latter.

"Yes I have been to Chandigarh. I had breakfast there at some relatives' place, they had a HUGE house with its very own conference room."- inconsequential, but not to me. That was the most perfect breakfast of my life. The sunlight, the mahogany dining table, the Labrador puppy- perfect.

"I'm so sick" I tell him in a weak whisper, because we've been going around in circles.

Magic

Wait...I think I did see a crystal ball in your room, the one that was cleverly disguised as a paperweight. Is that the one you use to make all your predictions? Though if I turned it upside down and wound it up, I'd see a unicorn dancing in the snow. Does that suggest something? "You have skill" - I say during a game of blackjack, and you look at the cards and tell me "joker signifies turbulent time in the future".

Does knowing you can read mean I safely presume you can also read minds? Where do you get the magic from?...

Dancing partners, could it signify love? I know you're answer would be "no but stupidity does." I ask too many questions I've been told, but answer me when I ask you this, "Where do you get the magic from" Read messed up grammar as nervousness, read grey as weakness, read half-smiles and shifty eyes as signs of me falling apart. Read me. You don't need charms and potions.

I want-

I wanted to dress up as Goofy and drive that cart sort of a thing around Disneyland. More than wanting to be a doctor, an air force pilot and even a detective- I wanted to dress up like Goofy. The last time I went to Disneyland, Goofy was not even driving the cart, it was some normal looking man. I wanted to get off at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and stay there with the fake pirates, taverns, town whores, bombs and the delicious smell of water.

I want to throw away tea cups and not laugh hysterically at the moon. Or maybe be all those things inside a blue book with a Taurean on the page next to mine. I want to not want to make reality fade so badly.

I have a few burns and cracks and chips myself. I want to throw myself away and build something new. Coming Soon :Edgier, brighter, smarter...all new!

Would it make a difference? hmmm...I guess not. I could try, do it for a couple of days, drop it. Not like I haven't done it a few hundred times before.

I could try making you understand me. Not in my usual whimsical way, but in a calm and collected manner. Like grown-ups do.

I want to be Goofy, or dress up like him (Be careful of what you wish for).