3:31 p.m. - 2002-12-27
the first time we met
the lonely souls
there was this line from a book which goes something like:
"you are beautiful...and believe me, i am the only one in this world who knows that."--haruki murakami. (south of the border, west of the sun).
looking at her, sometimes remind me of this line. she was not what you would think of as pretty, with its associated youthfulness and breeming energy, like a spotted leopard, slim and dangerous.
but somehow, when i first met her, though i cringed a little, it occurred to me, she does look cute, with her fine hair falling over her eyes and her strange mouth and manner of speaking.
she said i looked stressed. i wonder if i looked like that all the time. uptight and high wound like a spring. i hope my brows did not furrow.
she had a black cardigan draped over her shoulders. she is bigger sized than me. i wonder how it feels to hug her. i think it would be a warm fuzzy feeling. like the woollen cardigan.
we made conversation on the upper deck of the bus. The sky was gloomy and overcast with big grey clouds. i stared at the road ahead with the smaller cars and motorists. i was torn between feelings. she is not pretty. but i feel drawn to her. is it because i am just a lonely soul?
i feel both flattered and sad, as i stared at her smooth powdered cheeks and nose and realised she was wearing make-up. she looked cute in make-up, i must say.
the bus rumbled on... we whispered and talked about our siblings, our previous schools, her present job at the mental asylum, how we lost our handphones, clubbings, so on...
i dunno what she feels about me. but i am sure it isn't hunky or charming.
i think i could have looked like i had a lost soul. i didn't crack more than one joke.
the end.
