Us and Them
We were just talking about disassociation of self when I stand in front of a class of 86 freshman students and deliver a lecture, before you hung up but promised to call me back. We meet every day, yet find reason to speak on the phone at least five times a day. Sometimes you can never run out of things to talk about. At other times, you think you’ve known someone your whole life, but feel like complete strangers in their presence. I wonder if that feeling is entirely one sided, when we sit around the familiar dining table but can barely share an awkwardly worded sentence; while I seek refuge in my burger and noodles (strange combination, agreed) you shift in your seat, rather comfortably, it seems. Have we run out of things to say, or are we content in this mutual silence? Perhaps this is just a phase; or conversely, maybe we’ve grown out each other. Maybe I’m that pair of grey trackies with the red ankle elastic I never wanted to grow out of. So I kept stretching it over my socks and ankles till the elastic wore out, and Ammi had to give them to the Salvation Army. I wonder if there’s anything to salvage here, if there’s any point sticking around. Although, I don’t necessarily feel involved.
The rain always makes me sing and your name always rhymes with rain songs. Your casual mention of things important always seems to trivialize my purpose. However, your simple enthusiasm over the weather makes me soar. There’s you and then there’s you. If I had to choose, I’d choose you over you. You, on the other hand seem to spiral. There’s so much about you I know, and then so much more I have yet to figure out. You seem to get the better of my imagination, when I try. These taunts remind me of school when we were lured into bartering our stationary for a packet of chips. Needless to say, at lunchtime I was left with half an eraser and no chips. Sometimes you are so lost on me, I wonder if we will ever find common ground. Or perhaps we could continue driving along in your fast car, to the beat of the day, in search of orange chocolates. They always seems to fix things in the end.