I like to be clever, or at least feel like I'm clever. It makes me feel attractive and smart, and possibly good enough to be asked out. Not like I've not been asked out. Do you think its because I keep myself at home all the time? Or is it because for so long I've always been such a boy that nobody has realised that in reality I'm a girl. Or what?
So when somebody asked me to go for badminton, I think twice. Like who's going. Who'll be playing? THAT gang. WHo's THAT gang? Oh you know, the people whom *we* used to hang out with. But wait a minute, there's no more *we*, or *us*, for that matter. So actually, its the people whom *he* hangs out with. Now tell me, who's to blame me if I feel rather apprehensive about smacking shuttlecocks with fish-string racquets across a cemented hall? You need to think twice when you're forced to face this thing. You need to remind yourself that in fact, you're non-existent in this life anymore. You've morphed into nothing, nothing, not even a memory. Not even a memory to be cherished. Plus, they've been meeting up like forever, and you've never been called to join. You're not welcome because you've disappeared into vapour, thin smoke. Whatever you call it. Maybe there's not even a name. That bad. You're simply, nothing. Not even history. So what if they came to your 22nd birthday with nice birthday wishes. Now, think again, the genuinity of it. 25th October 2002 was not that long ago. Although, throwing that party was probably the biggest mistake of my life.
So why not say no to this invitation, however genuine it may be? In the end, you end up fishing up loads and loads of crappy philosophy you yourself know is total crap to prove that you're occupied with academics and careers, or maybe to pull a matrix over the reality so that maybe, you portray coolness and success.
Of course, having to work on Saturdays becomes a very good excuse. And then, I wasn't even lying.
