A Simple Story First Verse (standard:romance, 5408 words) [2/5] show all parts
Author: sickboy	Added: Oct 22 2002	Views/Reads: 2848/1923	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
2 hearts crossed, one was taken...

First Verse 

Who are you? I'm not talking about names or the titles or positions in
societies and companies, neither am I talking about who your parents 
are or what is your social or economical state or where you stay or 
what you do. But the plain simple question of the person that you are. 
Who are you? A question far beyond any reasoning or rationality could 
ever answer, I believe. As Leslie Cheong so rightfully put it in the 
movie “Inner Sense”, “The question of who or what oneself really is, is 
as much mysterious and mind-boggling as the mysteries of the universe.” 
What am I talking about? I have absolutely no idea. Just as I have 
absolutely no idea what happened during that week, or for the entire 
fortnight for that matter. But that statement wasn't true, or else I 
wouldn't be able to tell it. No, I knew exactly what happened; I 
suppose what I didn't know was how it could have happened? 

It began, as all weeks begin, on Sunday. It had been nearly a week now
since the Adele incident, and we haven't been talking to each other for 
the full week. No, you knew I wasn't gonna apologize, you owe me an 
explanation and I expect to get it. But the explanation never came. In 
fact, you never said a thing, it was like you didn't try, maybe didn't 
want to try. Nothing changed between us though: you still send me to 
college and then back, we still went for lunch and dinner together, we 
still held hands when we walked, and in fact, we just came back from a 
movie. The only thing was... we never talked. No, that wasn't exactly 
right either, was it?... 

“What time you want me to pick you up?” you 

“8.” me 

“Where are we going for lunch?” me 

“Station.” you 

“You wanna watch Inner Sense?” you 

“Okay.” me 

In the eyes of any normal person, we were just another young couple,
maybe a little quiet, but still just a young couple. In the eyes of any 
normal person who knew what was happening between us, we were just 
another synonym for joint-passive-psychotic-episode (if there was such 
a thing), in laymen terms: utter weirdness. What was wrong with this 
picture? It was a tragicomedy that wasn't funny, and I was sick and 
tired of playing the leading lady. 

“Stop it.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Stop the don't-talk-to-Sue-but-do-everything-that-we-normally-do shit.”
“What are you talking about?” 

“You bloody know what I'm talking about.” 

“Well what do you want me to say?” 

“You know what I want you to say.” 

... 

... 

Silence. Something about this silence made me sick (Rage Against The
Machine, Fistful of Steel.) No, I wasn't gonna sit around and look at 
your blank looking face while the frustration I built-up over the past 
7 days was eating me up almost every single second when I was with you. 
It wasn't just frustration, it was confusion, it was agony, it was 
pain, it was guilt. Guilt, of all things. What did I do? Did I go 
calling some other guy that I happened to like once upon a time? Did I 
hide the truth from you? Did I owe you an explanation? Yet every time I 
looked at you, it tore me apart like a combat knife slicing through my 
skin, but at the same time, I actually enjoyed and wanted to be with 
you and say to hell with Adele. I needed to talk to you, to hear you, 


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