Thinking now decapitates me. I have never been so reluctant to think, since I tend to brand myself as a thinker, rife with originality of thoughts and uniqueness of expression. Yet not only am I no longer thinking, I am actively avoiding to do so. It is not due to the fact that I have nothing to write about; it is all the wrangling apathies of being eternally polite, and politely scornful when reasons surface. I cannot think of another cause other than the fact that I have already written thus much for me to be sitting here and writing.
I dined in C3 servery with a multitude of Pakistanis who are going to celebrate Ali's birthday. They planned, for a hundred-euro budget of a watch, as a gift for him. The brand and the design have not been determined, and the group of us has already agreed to travel to downtown together for the watch. I am, curiously, automatically included into the coup simply because I cared, after the German A1.2 class has ended, to wait in the corridor for a little longer for Atabak. There's nothing indecent of their deed. And as a matter of fact, it is in every way applaudable. Tomorrow at 10:00 AM, as they have posted on the Facebook group chat, we're going to purchase things to surprise Ali. The number of people in this group has barely changed from that of the last group, approximately twenty people, and with all of whom I have vaguely acquainted but couldn't really tell. The difference lies in their components - I, together with a couple of other lucky few, am included in both of the groups; and the majority of the members, approximately half but possibly more, have changed. People who were invited last time aren't this time; and people who weren't are in fact invited. Nobody has mentioned of this little fact - it would be of quite a killjoy if they opt to do so. However, I believe, every of us, feels that the group chat windows have popped up a little too haphazardly; and the event, though jubilant, has occurred too abruptly. After all, there is no need for two chat windows if the target population remains static. And there's something dumbfounding to me in such a fatiguing migration. We posted, warm sentences and emoticons, spicy teases and crisp humors. We typed, on the phone screens and on the laptop keyboards that are otherwise used for academic writing, things that we deem interesting for ourselves, and more importantly, entertaining for the others. And we need to make new friends, to get to know more people, to engage in jovial conversations that shield ourselves from the monotony of staying in the room and doing homework - we are thoughtful in the making of those relationships. Yet, we are never thoughtful in their losing:
"Hey, Maria, how's it going?" "…" "Hey, Jimmy, nice to see you!" "…" "Hey, the anonymous girl who always stands by the Chinese Computer Science PhD student, good morning!" "…" For sure, I am an asshole for being untruthful, and you and you and you and you, you are an asshole as well.
A huge chunk of negativity carries his negativity bible around in the campus. He wears, a dearly smile on his face, saying hi to everyone who passes him by. On the Campus Green he picks up a discarded yogurt carton and puts it into the dustbin. And he keeps on walking, with the pair of leather shoes he has bought but has never cleaned, into the gym. This place smells like saliva to him - all the muscular people are cultivating their body, and their sweat drips down on the ground. He doesn't have a proper pair of basketball shoes. O' he lies again and enters, and finds himself sitting in the bathroom. A millennial later, he takes a look at his phone, 9:05 PM - it's about time to go. He exits and curses, turds, and heads back to his room.
