This is a future of a friend who told me about her friend's sister's someone. Random, retarded Indian connection. I don't think justice has been done to her life with my writing, probably because that isn't exactly my forte. Nonetheless.
She sits alone in her single bedroom browsing through her phone. A pile of messages from friends went unreplied that winter and there wasn't a single outgoing call made, except for food delivery.
And now, she tries to look past the tears that form in her eyes to catch a clear glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. It's messed up, she thinks. I am a fag.
The doctor had told Sarrah about her frail health. She listened intently. It was like walking down a staircase which ends in a quicksand. With each step down, you know how much you've left behind and with each step, you know how much weaker and vulnerable you have become. But, still, you keep walking down the damned steps.
She felt like that. She knew how and where she started to lose weight, when her knees shot up in pain and when she woke up with massive headaches.
She wanted it to be better. But no matter how hard she tried, it was in vain. Like Zimbabwe's economy just doesn't get better, neither did Sarrah's health. Whether it was weakening mental capacity that led to physical ruin, or vice versa, all she knew was - she wanted to be better.
In the few months that led to December 2009, Sarrah in all sense cut off all relations with everyone who loved her. She sat in that single bedroom with blue light and worked all day. God knows what she did. When did she bathe, some asked. Perhaps, at wee hours of the morning. Wait, she didn't just work all day. She also buried herself in self-pity, tears and utter hopelessness. It was all just unexplainable. Like a blur. Like something was wrong, nibbling away the peace of mind.
The chill wind when she went ice-skating, the soft hands intertwined, the movie theatre and the almost therapeutic aroma of caramel popcorn. A shriek somewhere. A movie star. The kisses and long drives.
Delivery boy was an hour late. Like Sarrah knew the account of time. On hindsight, as she dropped a tear, she lost everything for a cause that had now become unknown to her.
So, my friend's friend's sister's someone says:
Heck care, yo. Don't be stupid like Sarrah but do go indulge in the joys of your life.
hence...
NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS
1. I'll be nice to everyone. No taunts. Not to the EFs as well.
2. I'll be my usual chatty, can't shutup with 'you know whaaaats' while on the phone.
3. I'll finish that painting.
4. I'll sleep when normal human beings are expected to sleep.
5. Dean's list babyy. HAHA dream Dean, land at least on prof's list.
Basically, I want 2009 to be my year. It's Radhi's comeback time, bitches!