Thanks for those who read my blog!! :)
Someone said something to me yesterday that made me think a whole lot- we were talking about how President Bush sent the army to New Orleans because of Katrina. She said that if there had been a disaster in Britain and the army had been sent, one would expect them to be the ones picking up the broken pieces and helping salvage and rebuild. I thought about it, and its true. In other countries, like India, if the army is sent in to a disaster area, its because there is total faith that the army chaps can help out. But in the US, as she pointed out, images were daunting. You had the army in their super tankers or what have you-- holding guns, parading around town. They had guns pointed at people who had just suffered a terrible tragedy. And the images were just scary. It hadn't really occured to me; but now I can't stop thinking about it.
Anyway, the other day I needed to out this clock of mine in storage, and I came accross something I'd written when I was high school. So this is quite old; but I still enjoyed reading it. Its sort of the profile of a stalker. Its pretty creepy I thought, but I am still happy with the way I wrote it. So I thought I'd share it.
Years of perfected movements have taught me to sit still and observe. I see his car pull up at his driveway. The driver gets out, and after a few moments his door bangs shut. The door of his house opens, his wife comes out to welcome him. It is only after a few hours that the lights of the house are switched off and I leave.
He is all that I was. All that I lost. All that I want to regain. His world is now a desire that burns inside me. For me, timing is everything. They say, strike when the iron is hot. So I wait.
House of Cards.
I count on his vunerability. They say he exploited mine. The way he took possession of my world, and then left me. So ruthlessly. Now I sit and anticipate. One small blow and the house of cards will fall.
It never happens. I am destroyed. I am defeated. His is a world that I cannot touch. I cannot chase it any longer,it a mirage that is unattainable. So I resign myself to watching his daily routine. That is how I feed my impatience. Till the day the coward in me dies.