What do you still expect me to write? Of what I go through and its conditions and the outcome. Those things? To be little more clear, a truth I recently learnt is that whatever you go through, no intellectual or an asshole is going to kick his or her head to your situations, even though the same intellectual and the same asshole has gone through the same situations as you are. The only thing with which you can satisfy yourself is a smile from him or her when you least expect it, with few words of consolation making sure that you are not the only fool to suffer, that your companion who is unreasonably smiling and blankly weeping at your words, is there to accommodate you with his or her set of same lame stories till both of you and your companion start cry together, sharing the shoulders. The worst part is when you cant unplug his or her head off your shoulders, while you comfortably feel your hands getting numb and your shirt starts getting wet with tears and other unimaginable running objects.
Do you still expect me to tell what I go through? Probably, you do, as I assume, as every person go curious when it comes to private gossips. But this is no emotional item! This is just a lame attempt of letting all my companions know what I go through when I share my exclusive miserable tales with you, watching your empty faces go more empty, a few ‘yes yes, I understand’ words while your eyes celebrates ‘where the hell did I get stuck’ expressions, a few more nods of perfect pretense with no sharing of handkerchiefs when I badly need one, a few pats to cover up the mocking giggles that burst by accident and a steady goodbye after the long struggle of getting hooked with me, which no one ever dreams of.
Thanks to my companions for giving the perfect expressions.