"So...I might leave on December 4th or January 7th. Are you going to be ready if I leave on December 4th?" I dropped the bomb at the dinner table in the window between our food coming to our table. He looks at me in shock- "Wow, that's fast. I am not going to be ready if it's December 4th or January, Div." I look at him, with scrambled feelings inside me which eventually made their way up to my face. "I am going to the bathroom." he tells me. I look upset. "I need a moment. It's not you bubby. I'll be right back." and he walks away to the toilet. I sit, reflect and listen to the English people conversing beside our table. I can see one of the guys looking at me, from my peripheral. And then, I drink the champagne in my flute, bottoms up, and pour myself another glass.
One way ticket. One way tickets give you the thrill that a return ticket is never capable of giving you. You are leaving the life you knew and going forward to start a new one. Coming to the States was a one way ticket. Going back to India, is a one way ticket. But I will come back, after a year. I guess I will. I guess.
Certainty has never been a part of my life. Neither stability. I have nothing but dynamism and stagnancy happen to me for the past 19 years. It's kind of ironic. Actually more of an oxymoron, but true. But I am proud to say that I lived in each moment, but also died in some. I was dead inside for a while now, but now, I am born again. I am glad for all that I have been through. It makes me who I am today. And it will keep shaping me, certainly.
We spent the night, together. One of the most painful nights I have spent with him. I tried to harm myself, again. I thought I was past that but I was not. I look at the scar his dull Swiss knife left on my skin. I probed it enough to make it bleed a bit. I remember laughing when that happened. Dear lord, what have I done, again? Little reminders. Souvenirs of Chicago.
I wake up in the morning and wake him up. I am looking at him trying to take charge. I am looking at him breaking down piece by piece. Little shards of him falling onto his laptop screen as he tries to make sense of the financial mess he is in. I transfer him 50 dollars while he's at it. He looks at the notification. "Oh thanks Div." and I see a little part of him die a bit more inside.
I look at him make a phone call to Design Bureau. "I'm sorry I let you down. I am turning in what I have. I'll take a kill fee. I just took way too much on my plate and I am sorry once again." He's looking at me while he's on the phone. Is it me who caused it. He did not say it, but he clearly showed it. Maybe, it was me, after all. Maybe leaving is going to do us both good. That's something that is going to happen in my uncertain future, so I choose to just live in the present right now.
I can see him crumble down internally. It's as if I can look through him. It's so upsetting to see the people you look up to, the people who inspire you being so fucked up. It's really painful. Everyone looks so correct when you're not a part of their life. Once they let you in, they're actually in a shit show. All the geniuses I have met, are all in a shit show. He's one of the very few who I look up to, and seeing him like that, crushes me down. I am hurting, physically, mentally and emotionally. Dear Lord, what have I done, again?
There is complete silence for a while. He looks at me and says, "I've never done that before." on the verge of sounding liberated, which he was not. "Do you know what it feels like to quit a job? Well, you have dropped out of school. It's a thousand times worse than that." he tells me looking mad. "Let's go smoke this cigarette, please." I tell him and we proceed.
We're standing outside, both looking at different directions. I am scared to look at him in the eye because I am really scared of him. He has told me before that it was me causing it and I just cannot get that out of my head. Maybe it is me after all, innit? "I feel kind of proud of myself. I feel happy for being honest. I have never done that before." He blurts. I just look at him, not showing that I am scared, I say, "Well, that's the beauty of honesty. It's a pretty cool thing you know?" He nods. I am worried about him, though.
We take a cab back to my place. I had to drop him to therapy first. We had a pretty interesting driver called Mark. He had a wonderful Chrysler cruiser, or something. It was black so it instantly got me. We had a pretty great conversation with him. I had a deeper one with him after I dropped my bub to therapy. I inspired him to publish his book. Mark looked at me deep in the eye and said. "He's blessed to have somebody like you to take care of him." I said, "But I am leaving, Mark. I owe this to myself." He kind of was upset. He looks at me, very carefully and says, "Look Divya, you are very intelligent. You are very unique and I can see you go far in life. I have met many people in my life but you are different. You have a flame and you will make it to where you want to go. You inspired me to publish my book. I am very certain about you. I can see it in you. You have a very clear mind and a very pure soul. Do not worry about anything. I know you will get what you want. I am very sure. I am going to drop you off here but I hope to see you again. Well, I guess I will, one day. Take care Divya. Go and fulfill your dreams. Have a nice day."
This was the day I learned that I am really good at marketing.
One way ticket. One way tickets give you the thrill that a return ticket is never capable of giving you. You are leaving the life you knew and going forward to start a new one. Coming to the States was a one way ticket. Going back to India, is a one way ticket. But I will come back, after a year. I guess I will. I guess.
Certainty has never been a part of my life. Neither stability. I have nothing but dynamism and stagnancy happen to me for the past 19 years. It's kind of ironic. Actually more of an oxymoron, but true. But I am proud to say that I lived in each moment, but also died in some. I was dead inside for a while now, but now, I am born again. I am glad for all that I have been through. It makes me who I am today. And it will keep shaping me, certainly.
We spent the night, together. One of the most painful nights I have spent with him. I tried to harm myself, again. I thought I was past that but I was not. I look at the scar his dull Swiss knife left on my skin. I probed it enough to make it bleed a bit. I remember laughing when that happened. Dear lord, what have I done, again? Little reminders. Souvenirs of Chicago.
I wake up in the morning and wake him up. I am looking at him trying to take charge. I am looking at him breaking down piece by piece. Little shards of him falling onto his laptop screen as he tries to make sense of the financial mess he is in. I transfer him 50 dollars while he's at it. He looks at the notification. "Oh thanks Div." and I see a little part of him die a bit more inside.
I look at him make a phone call to Design Bureau. "I'm sorry I let you down. I am turning in what I have. I'll take a kill fee. I just took way too much on my plate and I am sorry once again." He's looking at me while he's on the phone. Is it me who caused it. He did not say it, but he clearly showed it. Maybe, it was me, after all. Maybe leaving is going to do us both good. That's something that is going to happen in my uncertain future, so I choose to just live in the present right now.
I can see him crumble down internally. It's as if I can look through him. It's so upsetting to see the people you look up to, the people who inspire you being so fucked up. It's really painful. Everyone looks so correct when you're not a part of their life. Once they let you in, they're actually in a shit show. All the geniuses I have met, are all in a shit show. He's one of the very few who I look up to, and seeing him like that, crushes me down. I am hurting, physically, mentally and emotionally. Dear Lord, what have I done, again?
There is complete silence for a while. He looks at me and says, "I've never done that before." on the verge of sounding liberated, which he was not. "Do you know what it feels like to quit a job? Well, you have dropped out of school. It's a thousand times worse than that." he tells me looking mad. "Let's go smoke this cigarette, please." I tell him and we proceed.
We're standing outside, both looking at different directions. I am scared to look at him in the eye because I am really scared of him. He has told me before that it was me causing it and I just cannot get that out of my head. Maybe it is me after all, innit? "I feel kind of proud of myself. I feel happy for being honest. I have never done that before." He blurts. I just look at him, not showing that I am scared, I say, "Well, that's the beauty of honesty. It's a pretty cool thing you know?" He nods. I am worried about him, though.
We take a cab back to my place. I had to drop him to therapy first. We had a pretty interesting driver called Mark. He had a wonderful Chrysler cruiser, or something. It was black so it instantly got me. We had a pretty great conversation with him. I had a deeper one with him after I dropped my bub to therapy. I inspired him to publish his book. Mark looked at me deep in the eye and said. "He's blessed to have somebody like you to take care of him." I said, "But I am leaving, Mark. I owe this to myself." He kind of was upset. He looks at me, very carefully and says, "Look Divya, you are very intelligent. You are very unique and I can see you go far in life. I have met many people in my life but you are different. You have a flame and you will make it to where you want to go. You inspired me to publish my book. I am very certain about you. I can see it in you. You have a very clear mind and a very pure soul. Do not worry about anything. I know you will get what you want. I am very sure. I am going to drop you off here but I hope to see you again. Well, I guess I will, one day. Take care Divya. Go and fulfill your dreams. Have a nice day."
This was the day I learned that I am really good at marketing.
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