If I could write a song

If I could write a song, provided I had the lyrical mastery, I would write an ode to this girl in my batch. She is my colleague and as a rule, colleagues are out-of-bounds in my quest of lust. This one, though, is a bit like the Lecturer, pretty with dark hair and dark eyes. I wrote about her in An empty lecture hall and her positive attitude to life is infectious. I don’t know her name, but I will name her Adara, a name that seems to be musically beautiful as I sit here in the afternoon. Adara is kind, and although she doesn’t know my name or my faults, she still greets me whenever I see her. Corridors are now places where I can feel my pessimism shrink into the background. I see her once or twice a day, but that is enough.

I am wondered and inspired by her charm and by her general air of positive wonder that she has for the world. She could be a pessimist, bitter and lonely, but she doesn’t look it. She is the image of everything I can’t understand in the world, but she is the image of something I would appreciate.

Why do I have so many women that I like? Is my life revolving around them in any way?

The answer to both of these questions is a complex one. I have women in my mind because I am mostly straight, and also because I appreciate beauty when I see it. I acknowledge something good when I see it and I value it. My undergraduate course is a lonely path to a redemption that will leave me bitter for the rest of my life. I have seen it in my father and I feel the seeds of the isolation and solitude grow into saplings. I am already lonely and I am already silent. It is funny that my social interactions usually last shorter than 2 sentences and it is indicative of the coldness to come. My only consolation is to gaze at beauty and fantasize. I may even flirt with dangerous situations but ultimately, this is a lonely path and I have chosen it. My salvation will deliver me when I achieve what my course aims to do.

My mother, fond as she is, warned me about the isolation, the subsequent mental problems, and so did my father. I was determined. I can feel the silence envelope me where I sit. Adara is like a beacon in the dark. I have something to look forward to when I wake up in the morning, fleeting though it may be.

 

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