Today
I couldn’t see anything. My eyes were closed. I was just waking up, I think. I could hear birds chirping, louder than usual I think. I got up from my bed, a little annoyed. I realized this was my fucking alarm. I had set it to Birdsong yesterday, thinking that it might be a good way to naturally wake up, to birds chirping, as they do. This fucking annoyed me, I changed it back to sunrise, which didn’t sound like sunrise at all, cause sunrise doesn’t have a sound.
I checked my phone, mom had called. I called her back.
“Why can’t I see inside my self ma?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nevermind”
I could hear the sunrise tune still ringing in my head, I had reset it 5 mins ago.
The night before
Hey.
Hi!
I feel like ending my life
Why Naren?
Because my days are boring, the care girls give is fleeting and it seems I won’t ever find god or the girl I love. Plus I am tired of begging for attention.
Do you want to fuck me?
Yes I do
Is that all your dirty mind wants?
It’s all it craves.
Do you love me?
I don’t fucking know.
Great Joker
Great man
Bye
Bye
I breathed heavily. I won’t kill myself. I did this cause I wanted to see someone care. But what the fuck was was this? What kind of a joke was this? The best kind I guess. A joke on me. And so a joke on everyone. But was it on her too?
Tomorrow
*Sunrise alarm sound*
“Stop”
*System sound*
Alarm stops
“Play some cheerful music”
*Fight song*
“Fuck change that”
*Roar*
“SKIP”
*Radio Gaga*
“Just stop it”
*I’m sorry I didn’t get that*
“STOP”
*System sound*
*Can I ask you a question?*
“Um sure”
*Why can’t I see inside myself?*
“What the fuck”
*That can’t be right*
“Why are you talking like a real person”
*System sound*
*Turning off*
--
*Sunrise alarm sound*
I woke up, what the fuck was that. That’s probably the strangest dream I’ve ever had. I shrugged my head and went to the bathroom. I got dressed quicker than usual, pulled up the curtains, saw the leaves move, and birds chirp. I had to get out of my dorm, I had to get out in the sun. I couldn’t help but think about the girl from the suicide prevention line. She was probably just doing her job though. That’s what everyone does, their job.
I stepped out onto the porch, the sun bright in my eyes. It felt like a fucking movie, one I’d watch too. I’d really been wanting to go to Louie’s. It looked pretty fancy though, maybe today was the day. I sprinted past people. It was a Saturday. No fucking classes. They’d probably be thinking I’m a madman to be sprinting on a Saturday.
I opened the door to Louie’s, the place sure smelled good. I thought of getting a table near the window, as I always do. Something made me take a table right at the other end, no windows. I sat down, looked around. There weren’t too many people there.
I was settling into my chair when she walked up to me. A tall waitress, wearing a black t-shirt. She walked straight up to me. I looked at her, she said hello and handed me the menu. This was nice.
The menu wasn’t anything too great, to be honest. It looked pretty good though. I decided to have beef. I waited for her to come over, gave her a smile, and began to order.
Which beef dish would you recommend?
Is this your first time here?
Yes, yes it is.
Oh alright then I think I’d recommend this steamed roast beef, you’ll love it.
Oh that sounds great.
Would you like anything on the side with that?
Um sure.
We have potatoes, vegetables, and bread.
Bread sounds good!
Great, it’ll be just a moment.
And oh, I forgot to ask, would you like something to drink?
Do you have iced tea?
Umm we have lemon iced tea
Sure that works
Okay!
I smiled. Her voice sounded familiar. Her name was Shariba, I’d read her name tag. That was a great meal man, I loved the pork, and the iced tea was great. I don’t think I’ve ever tipped anyone before, cause it’s my parents’ money. But Shariba was really nice, and that’s rare, so I tipped $3 and left, giving the staff a smile.
I was walking on the street again when I started thinking about whether Shariba actually wanted to be nice to me or was doing it cause it was her job. Heck, I even ordered extra stuff and gave her a tip. Was she a part of Louie’s? Was she just like everybody else? That was a dent in my mood.
It’d been a while since I’d been loved, I’d broken up some months back and the last person I kissed I sort of fought with and didn’t wanna speak too. She was rooming next year with another girl I’d liked. I’d introduced them. But anyway, I’ve grown up, I guess. I didn’t have any place to go, so I just headed in the direction of home. My dorm, I mean. There were so many people in my way though.
I really don’t judge people for selling out, it can get a little too much sometimes, always being yourself. That’s a tough act to pull off. But I never fucking got ripped jeans. This cute couple was walking next to me and the guy had ripped jeans on. I mean you can’t manufacture imperfection. I mean let the jeans rip on their own. You can’t just create fake ripped jeans. That’s my problem with society too. I mean I’d repair jeans but would I ever design a world where they don’t get ripped to begin with? Ripped jeans are pretty cool, heck even repaired ones are cool, but what’s cool about manufactured coolness. You gotta let those jeans live and rip on their own man. Let them interact with the world. Let them get fucked up. I mean if there were a pair of jeans that would never get dirty cause of the material, I might be tempted, but I really shouldn’t buy those. You can’t just copy other jeans’ life work. You can’t just edit out the bad parts. It’s how people act woke without actually waking up. I mean wokeness out of fear. It’s kinda like a clockwork orange. In the machine, either the rips are totally random or totally planned out. How the fuck is that natural. If I fall somewhere, it isn’t truly random, I think.
That was a lot of talk about ripped jeans. I don’t care too much about jeans. I do care about the world though, on good days. But I mean it, allegorically/metaphorically too. Human society isn’t jeans. It sorta is though.
————
That night I was thinking about Shariba. There was something about her voice that just seemed so familiar. It was a perfect mix of sweetness and carelessness. She could at once have been someone I was close to and cared about me and someone who couldn’t care less about me. I really wanted to think that she cared about me though, even if it was just a little. And not just because she was. I mean yeah I wanted her or anyone to be nice to everyone. But that’s more because that just seems like the nice thing to do if I imagine myself to be anyone else. In reality, I sort of only wanted her to be nice to me, even if it was just a little.
I got up from my bed and walked around. I flipped through my notebook. I’d written an old poem on one of the first few pages.
I closed the notebook. That was the past, this period in my life felt much less meaningful. It just seemed like the sea, with no dirt, waves, or people.
Fuck. Maybe Shariba was the person from the suicide prevention line. She sounded exactly like her. But was she anyway? I tried calling that number again but theft always gave me a different person. Or I lied that I’d called by mistake. I really missed her, or at least the potential time I imagined I could spend with her.
———
*Alexa, play Aaj mausam bada beimaan hai*
I was lying on my back, looking out the window. I could see the leaves flicker in the sunlight while hearing the sound of the music. My dad was lying next to me, on his phone. I yawned as my body lept to hug him.
The singer meant to capture the storm outside in a song. I felt more like I was caged in an empty bottle, while the storm was outside. Flinging mud on everything, breaking trees. I wanted mud flung on me too. What had I become? Where had I come?
My blinked, somewhere between a dream and reality, looking at the real trees which seemed fake plastic. Did I really want them to be real? Did I want the storm to come inside my house? Did I really want the harsh sunlight forever? The air conditioner felt pretty damn good, to be honest.
I could hear the birds chirping but not the leaves rustling. I got up, bent like a hanger. Staying at home was fucking my body up even though I was disease-free. I walked to my room and bolted the door.
I had to call the suicide prevention line again. I had a feeling she’d picked up this time.
“Hey”
“Hey Shariba.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I’m sorry, I called by mistake”
I cut the call. I closed my eyes and hoped she’d call back. But then I realized that’s not how this worked. I should though. If someone accidentally calls the suicide prevention line, they should call back to check if all is alright, if they really care. I mean it’s a free service, you’d expect them to not run it like a business.
Anyway, I called her again. And she picked up.
“Hey, Naren, how’re you doing?”
“Hey Shariba, I didn’t mean to creep you out. I recognized your voice from Louie’s. I’d had lunch there the other day. It is you, right?”
“Oh. Yes, yes it is me.”
“How’re you doing?”
“Um, I’m alright Naren. You do know this is the suicide prevention line right?”
“Yeah”
“So...is this an emergency?”
“Um no, I just wanted to talk. Can I do that? Or do I need to want to commit suicide? Sorry. What I meant to ask is would you like to talk? I mean, as Shariba, not as a waitress or suicide prevention person or whatever.”
“Um, I’d love to, you know. But if this isn’t an emergency, you do know other people really need this service right?”
“Yeah, I guess. I just wanted to talk about what you said when I first called.”
“Oh, nevermind that. It helped right?”
“Why do you guys have this service anyway? This is just like legacy software right? A relic. We can’t actually kill ourselves right?”
“Yeah, that’s true. This is more to address the feelings. And to make people who are feeling bad feel a little better. We’re the last firm that does it for free anyway. We just like making people feel better.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then. Bye”
“Bye”
“Um listen, one last thing. Is there any way I could send in a tip?”
“This isn’t that kind of job”
“Oh okay, goodbye”
I hung up. I never called her again after this. I never called them.