Life in Brackets

(Life in Brackets does not mean a thing.)

The fat black lady on a sidewalk in Manhattan Avenue screamed,”Hey you mister! How are you today? Do you have a cigarette for me?” She tried to be as sweet as possible with her crackling thick voice. Mister could have been any one of the many men walking in all directions, but it most probably was the guy who was not smoking. Another guy turned around, while typing something into his cellphone. He looked at me and smiled,”New York City huh!”. I smiled back,”I know, right?”. (He did not wait for me to say that, though. New York city, huh?)

Then I walked around a lot, and shopped. Shopped. Shopped. With all the money that a girl knows how to conjure after many days of having learned the art of “not spending”. I thought shopping would calm my nerves. Well, duh, it didn’t. (It didn’t.)

I ran for the hills when I left DC. I don’t know why. But I guess I had started thinking that my sweet friends are stupid, and I could not stand them. Also, I guess they could not stand me either. They wanted me to stay longer, but I for some reason felt that to keep loving them unconditionally I had to run away. But I had started getting scared of myself, and my thoughts. No scruples about being evil, you know. Also, I had not opened my best friend’s email, which was an invitation to her wedding. I was scared about opening it. Marrying to come to the US was not a part of the plan. It was a joke written in the margins. I was shit-scared. (SHIT-SCARED)

I reached NY very very early in the morning, when it was still dark. The city of dreams, where more dreams were broken than made. You could see them scattered on icy roads, dirty subway stations, stinky trains, torn jackets. Avoiding the stares and mutters of wasted hungry high people, I boarded my train. The guy sitting in front of me was asleep, sprawled. He spread a stench. People closed their noses, but did not avoid him. I heard a couple of guys talk about something, and because I have been blank, begging to air for words, I pulled off my beanie. They were shouting and talking some crap about jet blast. After five minutes I was thoroughly bored. I put back the beanie. Stupid people. They kept blabbering for the next twenty minutes or so. It was time to get off, to board a new train. I had settled, and was kind of happy sitting there. Man gets used to weird things, you know. I could have sat in that train for 5-6 hours more, or may be for the rest of my life. (…)

I then reached my friend’s place when it was still dark. I was glad that she finally picked my phone and let me in. I went to sleep, and when I got up I sensed something weird. Me and my fucking senses. Something was definitely wrong, I came to know later. Between my friend and her guy.  I fell sick the same night and was so for four straight days. Terribly sick. PMS and migraine is the worst combination ever, and no one sees anything from the outside, so you got to shut up and curl into a ball. First night I thought I was going to die, but I did not. (Seriously.)

Things still seem weird. I enjoy being alone, especially after seeing my friends. Man! I can’t believe that I used to be in relationships. There is something nagging me, though. I guess I just cannot wait anymore for my best friend to come here. She is sad about leaving Bombay. I got to tell her, that she is going to be in NY. My angel is made for the city of dreams, where dreams are dreamt, made, broken. She has no clue what is ahead of her. (No clue.)

Buh-bye New York. I’ll see you again soon.


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