The Cold Hard Days

Everybody’s entitled to little rantings about something. Here’s mine. Unlike most of my posts, this was written in real time, sometime in January 2014. If you don’t understand all of it, please don’t try too hard (especially to my real-life friends).

Its a time when I’d catch up with Brian more through his blog than through our conversations. Even though we live in the same hostel room. Such are our digitalized lives with the introduction of high speed internet in each room. Ever since second years started, our respective departments had taken their own turns, separating from the mainstream first year course. A class full of new people dictates a handful of new friends.
I found my friend in some fellas in my class, previously little-known.
Brian bolstered his friendship with his best friend, Mia, and a handful of her lady friends. And soon Brian, Mia and a Bridget became an inseparable trio. And Brian was rarely found in the room ever since.
Hank found his class comprised mostly of his own linguistic group. A high percentage of the students in his class belonged from Hank’s own state. He had no trouble finding friends. Especially so, since Hank was the crème de la crème of his class. Every time there was an assignment or lab report to submit, people would show up in our room asking Hank for his solutions, to copy.

Andy, the laziest guy I’ve ever met, had found his most suitable department. He rarely had any classes. Even if he did, his classes constantly got cancelled/postponed. Or the professor wouldn’t take attendance. As a result, he slept all day, and saw movies all night.
So, we’d have to arrange special nights. To hangout, to talk, to have dinner in a fancy restaurant. When we’d all be free. When we promised not to cancel.
So, this is how it feels. When your best friends get busy. They’re always around you, yet they’re never around.
It was a lot like my school’s last two years, coming over. The loneliness in a crowd.

But hey. I’m Abby. I feel that way for some time. But I get over it.
Yeah… I’ll get over it, won’t I ? ‘Cuz I’m Abby, that’s what I do !!

On 13th February 2012, I had built a boundary wall to protect my heart. I had adopted certain security measures to prevent what had happened, once again.
732 days later, my wall received its first major strike. A smash that shook its very foundations.
The strike was from inside. The heart had become impatient once again. It wanted to get out, get some air.
It was the first sign that the code has been breached. Feelings began seeping inside. Once again. Feelings for somebody. This couldn’t be a good sign.
Continuous waves of interaction primarily resulted in a steady seepage through the walls. The recent feeling of emptiness and vacuum gnawing through the wall, also coupled up, together with time-grown fungi, which weakened it from the inside.
I ordered reinforcements. But while a part of me wished to strengthen the walls, the other part was inclined to drag on with the faulty walls and breached security. As a result, procedures for reinforcement began at a government-work-like-speed. The seepage continued. It increased. And as expected, there was a flood. I could no longer control it. I could only wait. Till the rains stopped, and water drained out automatically.

But hey. I’m Abby. I feel that way for some time. But I get over it.
Yeah… I’ll get over it, won’t I ? ‘Cuz I’m Abby, that’s what I do !!

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