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BANG BALLS
FREEDOM OF SPEECH NOTHING SHOULD BE IMPOSED
IDEAS NOT LEECHED ONLY CREATIVELY COMPOSED |
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Jasmine
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Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Transient Affair. And so the room was adorned with balloons. It reeked of happiness. Something very much foreign to us all. It seemed so happy, so pleasant. But deep inside, we all had a stabbing pain - one to call ours, one to call our own. We all kept silent about it, we didn't want to show our vulnerabilites, we had to be strong, we have to be strong. Chatter permeated the room, conversations were made, what of, I bet no one knew. It was sensless banter, just chatter. People kept talking, others were laughing, some left whispering, only two sat silent. Alone in a corner, a perculiar face stood out. It was a look of solitude, the look of fatigue. It reeked of despair, of hopes lost and never found. She sat there alone, gentle and sweet. We made eye contact. A small grin ensued, what that meant, neither of us knew. We just knew of a mutual connection. Bashful as all strangers are at the start, we tried avoiding getting caught in an exchange. Each stolen glance spoke in a way words never could. That brief moment said so much; Hello there sugar. How are you? What's your name? What are your pains? Are you single? Are you available? These questions, they never stopped, it soon became a conversation made up of just visual stares and facial contractions. It was amazing. She signalled for me to go closer, just like how all the other women have. And though it was the very same game played, it just felt different. There was an air of romance in this rendevous. That was the concern - my concern. Women, they knew this game much better than their counterparts. They knew their privillages, they knew their rights. We men were left to guess their thoughts and to play the romantic fool. Some excelled at the game while others only knew the bitter taste of rejection. Don Juans were crowned and Romeos were lost, that was how brutal the game of love really was. But the sweet rose, the object of romantic desire never let them falter in their romantic cause. The mustering of sufficient courage to approach the sweet botanical creation was a Herculean feat, a feat far more insurmountable by the mortal man. As love creates, love too destroys. It breaks the individual down to become the epicenter of something more powerful than the lone entity of a person. It takes the good, the bad, the ugly and the sad; mixing it all into a concoction of love. Love is something so mystical and powerful that even the great philosophers of Greek antiquity could never actually understand. The ability to feel a myraid of confliciting emotions leaves us at a lost. The question of love, on love was: how real and true can this feeling be? Contact was made. Words were exchanged. Interests were shared. Sweet nothings whispered. But all of it amounted to nothing, for fate wasn't on either of their sides. |
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