This afternoon, as I was looking through my text inbox for a message, I found another message from V. A message I hadn’t noticed before. I txt’d him in return. We txt’d for a little bit.
I decided to chat later on in the e’en and chatted with some Desis. Then tonight when I went out to dance there were some Desi couples—and there a few dance moves that I remembered doing with him. At one point when I was dancing, I looked toward the door and for a split second I thought I saw him.
What happened today? What led to this? I haven’t been like this since last fall. So why am I now mulling over him? Wishing that none of the crap had happened and we were still friends? Still flirting? Still enjoying each other’s company?
When the Punjabi MC/J-Z song came on I couldn’t help but think of him. I tried hard to bhangra away the lack of enthusiasm I felt. I thought I could fake it till I made it, but I couldn’t fake my way into the joy of dancing—not this time.
It didn’t make it better that the music wasn’t varied from what we’ve heard for the past however many Fridays that we’ve been going to the club.
At one point I was sitting in a chair, staring off into space, my mind occupied by the necessities of daily life—boards, studying, match, literature search, grant proposal—in the middle of a club. For real, for real.
My daydreams can help me only so many days; then reality settles in. I can’t hide in the Sims, in online chatting, in surfing, in mystery novels, in dancing, in cooking or in sleeping.