We headed out into the city which was a ten minute drive from where our college was. I was driving since I was the only one who could drive out of the two of us and my best-friend, not surprisingly was getting impatient on her own; saying her thoughts aloud regarding her concern about what colors suited her. To be perfectly honest, I was getting irritated with her insecurities. She didn’t even need to think of the color which suited her the best because every color which existed in the whole of the universe suited her just because she didn’t need a color to suit her, but the thing is, I didn’t know how I could explain this to her; neither was I sure if she’d even understand if I say it. We arrived at the mall soon enough where she wanted me to take her and she began to drag me along before even I could spare a glance the stores.

We came around to the women’s department which scented all too much of women and their endless desires that my head hurt. The entire place was awash in delusion and colors; I immediately wondered if this was how their world was like; following that thought I realized that this wasn’t exactly the world they were born with but what us men had painted out to them. Here’s my thoughts on this; I think all us humans are paintings drawn on flimsy white paper. The flimsy white paper is what we initially were at birth and the painting is what we grew in to because that’s what the society, the world wanted us to be.

I was dragged into a store which had an unreadable French name and which was decorated in colors which possibly pierced through my retina. The store owner was the exact depiction of the store itself and soon we were led to a little store room which was filled to the hilt with gowns of all sorts.

The next thirty minutes was spent as one of those scenes off a chick-flick where the guy sat before the dressing room when the girl would come around clad in thirty-three thousand different dresses and she would try them on and on until the guy would give his approval and the girl gets so excited that they passionately embrace and kiss and hug and all that just because the dress looked good on her and they were both happy; Except I was least enthusiastic and personally approved of all the dresses without so much as telling a word aloud while my best friend, instead of trying on thirty-three thousand different dresses was trying out two dresses of the same design in two different colors, getting exhilarated and claiming that she was in a dilemma. I honestly couldn’t understand why she would be in a dilemma the first place because the dresses were exactly the same and they both looked absolutely gorgeous on her. One was pale pink, the other was turquoise green; both were long, both had a bodice and both were dresses. I didn’t say anything though, even when she asked for my opinion because honestly, I didn’t think my opinion even mattered. In the end though it was getting frustrating and the guys were calling me up to finish the ship since I was the tallest and my height was an absolute necessity there so I decided that she looked the best in pale pink than she was in the turquoise one.

So I told her this aloud.

“Pink?” She repeated, and it must have been me but she sounded slightly offended, like I told her I’d wrap her up in a banana peel.

“Yes, Pink”

Even the store owner approved and I decided that she had a slightly sane taste despite how she was dressed. My best-friend was being persistent and annoying though, telling us that her boyfriend liked her the best in blue and turquoise was the closest of being that. I didn’t argue, because I couldn’t, because it was possibly the lamest claim she’d ever made and against my silent protest she finally decided to buy what she wished.

Afterwards she insisted we go out for lunch together because it’s been long since we hung out. I didn’t know what I should say to this because I was suddenly feeling uncomfortable about it; it was one of those moments where you didn’t know whether you should look at your crush as your crush or as your best friend, just because it factually caused that contradiction. I couldn’t bring myself to say no, since I too secretly wanted to hang out with her to just awe at the sheer beauty of her very existence and so we went out for lunch.

And it was during that lunch that she made the most implausible and heart-wrenching revelation ever.

“You know, we did it; my boyfriend and I”

For a moment I sat still, jaw clenched, eyes unmoving and mind mulling on the bluffy short little bastard who was forever smiling and looked like he meant all goodwill for the world; when I had noticed his too-much-of-everything had I realized that he was up to no good, however I never knew let alone guessed that things could actually escalate to that point. So I stayed silent. This silence, however, she interpreted as my lack of knowledge on societal mementos that she began to explain to me; “You know, it, when the wagon enters the garage continuously to reproduce their kind, but excepts some wagons and garages don’t intend to make their kind but-,”

“I get it” I said, trying to sound much too non-committed while inside there was the rising, bubbling hot-white anger. I didn’t know if it would escape even if I suppressed enough, I didn’t know if I could suppress it at all. All that I wanted to do that very moment was to murder the sick good-for-nothing product of hopelessness and grasp what should be mine.

“You look pale…” She pointed out, suddenly and giggled like I was sporting the most comical appearance of all. “Hey, are you by any chance, jealous?”

I was too prideful to admit it even if I were, but no, I wasn’t jealous, I was angered. I wasn’t angry at him or her, I wasn’t angry at how the world went though it was constantly in contradiction to my expectations; no. I was angry at myself, angry at myself for not seeing it coming, angry at myself for being deeply disturbed by something so plausible by nature, but then it hit me. It was plausible and natural, but I was right, I was so darn right because we all lived in a hypocritical society which couldn’t tell good or bad apart.

“Were you deluded?” I asked, trying not to grit my teeth.

“Huh?” She went.

“Deluded, were you deluded?”

She smiled then, the kind of smile she always did when she was embarrassed which quite made her eyes gleam, and said; “Perhaps…maybe…I mean, I was of course deluded by love”

This angered me even more. I wanted to scream at her, to yell at her and point it out to her firm and clear that love was not about telling them that they love them all day and night, that what she did had absolutely nothing to do with it. I loved her, I loved her for a year yet never had I even thought of taking that unnecessary advantage of her even when I could, because I knew how it felt like afterwards, the guilt, the pain and the truth that something was lost to be never taken back. I didn’t tell her that though, because I couldn’t bring myself to. Instead I said to her; “I’m sure you were”

And then she said; “I am sure I was…just come to think of it, he’s first in my everything! The first one to have a real crush on me, my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first love, my first…”

I couldn’t honestly handle her train that I burst out before even I could stop myself. “Your first everything don’t always end up marrying you, you-!” I stopped there just like that because I despised talking too much. Talking too much hurt, talking too much was always unnecessary. By that time I had no hunger, no desire for food nor even a desire to look at her satisfied and confused eyes. I just wanted to escape, return to my shell of pretense and be that someone who never was me, smile and occasionally chatter with the stereotypes because I had become a stereotype myself and set up a ship which didn’t even look like one. Momentarily everything unreal were comforting, pretense was the best remedy and escape, the best way to go on living when the reality was too harsh to face alone. Therefore I opted to say nothing afterwards and stood up. She called my name after me but I was determined to escape so I walked to my car where she followed after me, said nothing as I climbed in and she followed after a moment, then we were driving out of the city in such an intense speed that I had never made in my entire driving life.

Throughout the next week I made it evident to her that I was deliberately avoiding her just to see if she’d care to come back after me, which she never did and it only ended up being my wishful thinking. Things were better however, given that my best friend had gone on her way and I had found my zone of comfort among the college nerds. I helped them with the preparations throughout the week, met a couple of first-years who’d come around to either awe at my ability to hang things or to question me about unit selections. Such was life for a week, not even a single trace of my best friend and for once I was relieved that I had no more tumults to contemplate about, no more crushes who looked like fruits of all sorts, described by sappy adjectives, no more girl-drama. Just I, myself and my life and nothing seemed easier than spending it off my own. For once I wasn’t feeling that absence, I was independent and I came to realize that I, of course, had a life.

The day of the ball came a little too soon, and only on that morning had we completed the ship which magnificently sat among the lights and gleaming shreds of glittered cloth which was supposed to be the sea. We were all satisfied of our hard work, all that we committed to build that sheer magnificence of an accomplishment and sure enough, the council got all the credit and the praise. We said nothing because we were the stereotyped so-called college nerds who supposedly could do nothing but just be nerds; we let the council wash their hands on our heads just because it was what life was all about. To be perfectly honest, I was used to being used recurrently and those were the kind of moments where I’d think of people and the kind of problems they have to live through which were much worse than having done something committed and not getting accredited for. The thing is, we don’t ever decide whichever should and would happen in our lives, therefore we could never say whether we were being puppeted around until it actually hit us hard, and it does when we couldn’t do anything about it. I supposed it was exactly the case with my best-friend too. We were best friends as long as we both needed it, we were both dependent and constantly falling on the back of the other that it grew difficult for us to pull apart; when we finally did, however I had come to the depressing realization that in the fact of the truth, the one who had been used over and over in reality, had been me. This was exactly why I didn’t complain when I wasn’t given the necessary credit for climbing up two legged ladders and risking my life; for it really wasn’t worth it, because there were things even worse than that that I had encountered in my life.

I really wasn’t interested in parties, or balls or parties which went under the identity of a ball especially if they went with themes as lame as pirates. This time around, however I had no choice but participate because I was forced into it and also forced into purchasing the ticket which actually gave me the reason to come along despite my inner thoughts on it. I opted to wear the suit I got when I obtained my diploma a year ago, only except I didn’t wear a tie and since it was necessary that I dressed as a pirate, I cut off a spontaneous piece of cloth in the shape of an eye patch in hopes that it did somewhat add the pirate essence to my attire. It did nothing so much as giving me the whole piraty aura; instead I looked like someone who had gotten an eye infection. I was too bored to pull it off once I had worn it so I decided to go with it and drove my way to campus with one eye.