I know. I still haven't made that call to you. What has it been like now?! 3-4 years or something? Yeah, somewhere close to that.
And its not like I haven't tried calling, you know. There have been times when I've called and you've decided to not pick up. And on most such occasions, you said you'd call later... that same evening, next morning, in the dead of the next night, next week when you'd be free, next month when you're over some emotional shit, next year when things would change completely for good, next decade when both of us will be Goddamn robots, next millenium when... I'm sorry, my imagination and science fiction knowledge fail me.
So you can't fault me for not waiting, you know. I've waited enough, more than my fair share actually... and now I know there's no point in waiting.
But look at me! Look at the shameless loner who goes by my name, pretends to wear this cloak of invincibility which he knows is actually a veil of false bravado, tries very hard to look blessed when he knows he is doomed, throws vibes of strength while there is the stench of weakness inside. Look at me in my flowing glory, I say!
I return to you every time random games are being played around inside my head. In my naïveté, I used to think that these are practice games at best and I can win the ones that happen on the minefields. Now I am older, very much so, and my maturity tells me that these are the ones that matter the most.
You've heard of Calvinball? You know, that game where the only rule is that there are no rules and arbitly random (or randomly arbit) things are decided on the go? It surely is great fun to read in comic strips but it assumes monstrous proportions when the playground for this thing which is as uncontrollable as a nuclear explosion is your own head.
Bill Watterson couldn't explain Calvinball in its entirety to us dumb people. I don't stand a chance of either understanding it or explaining it to anyone.
And so I shouldn't even give it a shot... I really shouldn't call you to explain.
...
Or probably, when I think of it, maybe I've stopped caring enough for you to call or maybe I've stopped caring enough for myself to explain. Or it may have so happened that I really don't want to call... today, tomorrow, forever.
Still, don't be surprised if I call you someday!
And its not like I haven't tried calling, you know. There have been times when I've called and you've decided to not pick up. And on most such occasions, you said you'd call later... that same evening, next morning, in the dead of the next night, next week when you'd be free, next month when you're over some emotional shit, next year when things would change completely for good, next decade when both of us will be Goddamn robots, next millenium when... I'm sorry, my imagination and science fiction knowledge fail me.
So you can't fault me for not waiting, you know. I've waited enough, more than my fair share actually... and now I know there's no point in waiting.
But look at me! Look at the shameless loner who goes by my name, pretends to wear this cloak of invincibility which he knows is actually a veil of false bravado, tries very hard to look blessed when he knows he is doomed, throws vibes of strength while there is the stench of weakness inside. Look at me in my flowing glory, I say!
I return to you every time random games are being played around inside my head. In my naïveté, I used to think that these are practice games at best and I can win the ones that happen on the minefields. Now I am older, very much so, and my maturity tells me that these are the ones that matter the most.
You've heard of Calvinball? You know, that game where the only rule is that there are no rules and arbitly random (or randomly arbit) things are decided on the go? It surely is great fun to read in comic strips but it assumes monstrous proportions when the playground for this thing which is as uncontrollable as a nuclear explosion is your own head.
Bill Watterson couldn't explain Calvinball in its entirety to us dumb people. I don't stand a chance of either understanding it or explaining it to anyone.
And so I shouldn't even give it a shot... I really shouldn't call you to explain.
...
Or probably, when I think of it, maybe I've stopped caring enough for you to call or maybe I've stopped caring enough for myself to explain. Or it may have so happened that I really don't want to call... today, tomorrow, forever.
Still, don't be surprised if I call you someday!
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