Fantasy

In the long list of women I lust after, or have lusted after, is another one. Two more, in fact. With each passing day I feel as if there is a shift in the way I see the world, and every day I have a new muse. Who are these muses, you might ask, and I ask the question to myself. The weather is stiflingly hot even in the evening, the pressure of the upcoming examinations is starting to make its presence felt, but there is a sense of optimism somewhere in my mind that I am trying to find. It is like hearing something rattle in a dark attic, I hope to follow the sound to find its source, and who knows? I might find something interesting.

So there are two more women in my mind now. But before that, I need to re-establish a few a things. Past women, so to speak, are like ghosts now and they need their closure.

The Receptionist, the Waitress and the Projectionist I haven’t seen in quite some time. They’ve faded from my memory. Nothing remains of them except some empty, parchment like phantom feeling which I don’t think too much about. The Lab Technician has, like the Lecturer, been re-assigned to another branch of the University, and I haven’t seen either of them for more than a month.

So that leaves me Adara, the passing fancy.

It is funny how things come and go. I have been sober for more than 2 weeks now, and there isn’t even a slight urge to taste alcohol. I’ve stopped smoking for a week and that too is now a dead longing. It is as if they have become the decomposing roots of a tree that once thrived, green and lush. My interest in all of those “Unattainable Women” has just fizzled out into nothing. Masturbatory activity is now diminished and this is not a reduction in the interest for sex (my body longs for the company of another, some bright sanctimonious prick once said) and there is a gnawing dissatisfaction with life in general. Pessimism is realism, but sometimes reality is a weight that seeks to push you down into a quagmire of desperation.

Adara, Adara, Adara. The more I think about her, the farther she recedes into the dark. I see her sometimes but we don’t speak. I can’t think about it. I can’t bring myself tto having conversations with people because in a way I have become an island. I tried to keep some connection with people but I’ve found that it is so difficult. Guess Adara has receded into the mass, like a drug that I stopped taking and whose withdrawal brings nothing but an emptiness I am glad to have. I have Marija to think about when I can but she too is gone. She’s gone to Estonia for a week. Adara has shrunk into nothingness and there are times when I read this blog when I forget how Adara looks.

My obsession, crush, romantic interest, or whatever cheesy title you feel is good enough for this longing I have for two girls is, in some way, a little more concrete. I am not substituting a girl and my feelings for her for a drug. I am not, in any way, trying to complete myself, nor am I looking for companionship. One of them is British, the other is Turkish, and I am hopeless and wordless when I think about them. I meet the British girl everyday because she is in my class and I hear her talk about her frustrations in academics and feel normal for a little while. Someone once said to me that it is easy to be lost in your own shell in medical school, and probably it is this feeling of isolation that comes from being a foreigner that seals it, but it is an effort to speak, it is a burden to be a realist because that cynicism that comes with reality is concrete.

 

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