quite quiet

I want a normal relationship. I want a Disney friendship. I can’t deal with this anymore. I can’t have him call me names like ‘fat fuck’ and whittle off into intellectualizations of why so, why he can love me so and is repulsed by me all the same. The subtext of this story is too obvious to afford mention. I get embarrassed at the thought of thinking it aloud. But I am thinking it aloud. And I need to document it lest I forget. Although I think it sometimes is better forgotten. I remember that day; Irfan and I were at the fountain opposite Raffles City Mall. We were wry and morose and bored and empty. He laid himself upon his shawl, which he laid upon the fountain’s steps. There, prostate, he looked up at me, and we talked, intellectualizing imaginary situations, feelings, doubts, thoughts and I remember being bored and empty and morose and wry. The security guard came over, tufts of hair, held neat by sweat and a temporary sense of authority; arms akimbo, leg-limbs a-spread, he wagged a finger, as sweaty, naked, sparse and authoritarian as its owner and said, “No house ah? If you want to sleep, go home, la!” I felt dissent rise in me creeping quiet, building gradual, remaining quiet in me. Are we this alienated from each other? I don’t understand the man’s anger. I don’t understand his lack of grace. He’s just doing his job, I rationalized. It was more of an attempt to justify my inaction. I hate how objective I can get, how dispassionate I am, how much of a mute coward I can be. Irfan crept up to a seating position like a cat rousing from sleep, waiting for eats, and I fell silent, ashamed of my silence. Many times tongues were held back-bitten, important times where I turn blue from suppressions; where minutes later, rationale blesses me with clever retort or courage under fire or passionate throes of I love yous or formidable witticisms that I document, lest I forget and grow too ashamed of my ‘silence’. ‘I can be loud’, but I can’t amplify emptiness as loudly as he. And that is a thought I am too ashamed to document. But hey, too late.
He calls me out for lunch now. I have already forgiven him.