Reaps Gives Deets

Untitled Part 2

CHAPTER 2

Have you ever felt the urge to go back in time and relive something differently? Everyone would stand up. Then have you dismissed the idea, saying to yourself that even if you got such an opportunity, heck, let million times you got to relive it, there would be no use, because you would play out exactly like you didn't want to. Now, maybe one-seventhirtyeighth of everyone would still be standing. Now, you get a a status update from this old worn down crush you wasted time over during your school days and had lost out on reading for the finals in fantasizing about hugs and smooches. Even though this much had happened, you still send an "hi". The last few messages might have like interrogations, she replying to your questions. In fact, seeing through the chat history might be like a one-way deal. She would have never initiated the conversation with you. HEE-HEE. Then, you proceed to roll down on your bed and waste another five minutes on useless unproductive remembering how her face looked like.

HEE-HEE-SEE. The above proceedings are specific, you can't ask the general populace to relate it. But what's not specific is the fact that the above person should definitely be a teenager. So regret yet so foolish. What's the use of maturity if you can't implement the correction. You just get addicted to the part of feeling regret so much that you forget that the regret can be avoided if things are done differently.

(For the record, the above paragraphs should be covered with quotes because-)

"Well, that's a wonderful monologue Jeremy. So fitting, but I sincerely hope you are not the example you used."

"Huh, ma'am, one can't paint a portrait of oneself."

Said who? One can of course draw a portrait of oneself, but it will be so bad, so backward, that if anybody saw it, the eye cells might go corrupt and send instructions to their fellows in the back alley to create a bowel tumor. The intensity of tumor depends on how good the painter is.

(Okay, okay, don't look so sad Jeremy. You really should understand my feelings. Those out there, I need to showcase that I too have a philosophical feather on my cap. See, they read through your monologue and believed it to be my narrative gimmmick. That's a great thing for me, Jeremy, please understand.)

[Oh, come on. You don't suppose that those out there can read through what you just said?]

(Ahem, mon editeur told me that things within brackets would vanish. Leave it to me, he said.)

[Huh-uh. Well, let me just get out of the-] bracket... [...What?!]

(mon editeur told me that you weren't due until later)

[But-but it's so boring out here, pretending to be like one of his kind...]

(Shoosh...)

As Jeremy made way to his seat, he felt a pity. He was just like the example. Someone was making noise with the click-pen. He looked back, and felt good. There were his two friends, making a face if translated into His Holiness, the Emoji, would say smirking-face, thumbs-up, clapping-hands-(-medium-skin-tone and -medium-light-skin-tone respectively).

He really felt good. Changing school was hard. Nevertheless he had gone with it. He had this crush on a girl who treated him as a brother. He had blatantly told her the three golden words one lazy afternoon. She was angry at first, then after he apologized to her and convinced her that he meant it in the [Gulp!] brother-sister way. Till end of semester, he was in a sort of frenzy. On the last exam, he decided he needed a move on. After all, he was just in Tenth Grade. Even though his sweet sixteen was partially ruined, it didn't mean the end of the world. He still had two years of awesomeness ahead of him.

The very first day at school, he bumped into Stacey. Literally. She was walking in the alley, talking to someone behind her. He was coming with his eyes alright. But still, it all happened in a quick and clumsy way. A cosmic setting. He was on the ground, with her burger on him, the sauce executing divide and conquer strategy on his white shirt.