Because it does hurt when she walks away, thinking only of him, thinking solely of him.

when you wear your heart on your sleeve, and you make your way to the train station, alone again.
and watch as she turns away.

Everything that should mean so much to the both of you just ends up almost invariably meaningless to her. not just meaningless, really all just "nothing".

maybe he hides what he feels in catchy choruses or logical discourse, like she does in her newspapers in the morning routine.

what do you have to do to get due notice..

get streaked blond dreadlocks?

make an apricot pumpkin cake and throw it off the URA building?

sit out on the balcony at night after a long day of bustle, hold your head in silence and wonder..?

Or watch the traffic, the darkness hiding the cruel cement of surrounding streets..

what?

there is nothing more pleasant than a moment of reflection and peace, overlooked by the night sky and random thorny stars.

It's a question of priorities. You can't be all things to all people.
after all, he has never been especially parsimonious, always being suspicious of people who are so. (You know the sort.)

then he decided to change for the better, no, the different. He wishes to be that "better person", the one who evolves from the normal individual and serves as the standard by which we compare him then and now, like those slimming ads on the tv.

someone like that guy who walks with a steady step and a confident gait. he wants to be him.

why..? because in our school society, normalcy is
insipidity. we must all be different and unique and at the top, or else we fade off into voids that we create for ourselves.



we could all pretend we don't know the whos and whats and what will happen next. we could build different time machines that will bring us to different pasts and futures, and when we meet, we'll be the people we truly want to be, without the childish angst and pathetic memory tracks and painful radio tunes of... i don't know.. of "you and I"?

we could dance around the real issue, pretend what we say is
really what we feel, and then go on cyberspace and sneakily gush forth something entirely different. we can be 2 people all at once, and no one has to know why.

we could hide behind imperturbability.
we could not hide at all, and bury ourselves in the library, studying bio notes to death and chanting our numbers that are complex but yet necessary.

Better yet, we could study neology and then wonder what it all means.

he could tell her what he really feels inside. but what's the point really. isn't it better this way. silent in the heartache, just to wait and see. there's always that chance she will cease to matter that much soon.

we have to live our pretense. sometimes its the only way we can keep sane. maybe one day when she finally misses him, he won't be there anymore.