There are too many things I don't understand. I'm young, naive, experimental, stupid, and young again. But is that excuse enough to not understand things? I wonder.
I was reading Hosseini again. Khaled Hosseini, my favourite author. He's two books old, and he is a magician. His characters are painted in the primary colors of a fairy tale, and I have fallen in love with two of his characters once again because I connected with them like never before. Hosseini doesn't write about things I cannot establish a connection with. Bizarre stuff like glitzy vampires, too much vengeance. No, I don't relate to them, and avoid reading about them. I have gnawed and fed on literature and some books are just an insult to your intelligence. Sigh.
Happiness is an alien feeling. D lost his father on Monday. This comes after losing his mother in 2006. Its sounds like a film to me, and how I wish this were happening in a film too. I don't like seeing the most joyous person I know look so demented. He picked up my phone last night after some 30 missed calls. His voice hardly came out, for the first time ever our conversation was not full of insane laughter and pathetic jokes, for he only spoke in monosyllables. I didn't connect to my own brother for the first time, ever. I don't want to blame him.
I remember his ecstatic screams over the phone when he informed us his team from IIM-Calcutta had made it to to the top (well, almost) and they were all coming on Television. Dated 27th March, 2011. Vijay Mallya complimented him on being a very "enthusiastic young boy, with lots of potential" ON NATIONAL TELEVISION!
Yeah, D is a stud. ( He hates the word) He's charming, he's got the best hair, and he's too bloody intelligent. I envy him. And he has the best sense of humour. Though I keep teasing him that no body in this darned universe can be as perverted as him, he makes me laugh, and laugh really badly too. Though I love a lot of people, this boy has a special corner in my heart. His strength, I respect it. His intelligence,I envy it. His fervor, I adore it.
And I hope He is listening, because I hate seeing him like this. It drives me insane.
I've realized how ignorant we are, as humans, about our own needs. A character by Hosseini makes me wonder, why isn't it easy to scream out for love? You can scream when you're ignored, when you're pissed, but you can't scream out when you feel unloved. Not hated, mind you, just not loved enough.
There is soft music in my room. Life house probably. I'm unable to focus my attention on it, for once, even music isn't healing. For once, the calming voice of Jason Wade made no sense to me.
I just hear some broken lyrics here and there. Speak. Feel. Strength. Stand. You. Want.Everything.
I shut the book down and realized the time had whirled past. It was four already. The fog has entered my room too, or maybe its the grass working on me again, or the coffee. So many things I don't know. The fog is perhaps clogging my brain too. And D is on my mind, again, as I drift off to sleep.
So many things that I wish you knew
So many walls up I can't break through
