Sunday, January 23

All for a change

ey everyone,

The Displaced Frequency will be undergoing spring cleaning soon. So just give me the CRAZIEST ideas for almost anything. Layout, title, my profile photo!!! I'm willing to follow almost any idea that comes to me as unique. How about ideas for some new posts?

Right now, I'm suffering a brain-drain. No thought in my head, no idea of life, nothing! So... this is what I suppose I'll do. I'll write a short story that I had written once (I guess last year or so...).

The weirdest thing about it is, that it ain't got nothing to do with the title. It's a fictional narrative about this normal person's friendship with a weird person, it's called, Goobye Enya:-
I met Enya today. It had been quite a while, almost 2 years. She had changed, evolved. Despite our friendship for 7 years and the fact that we were living in the same town, she never cared to let me know her adress. The other day I recieve a text from her to see her today evening, also saying that there might be no other chance. Naturally, I was bewildered. The girl never cares to let me know where she is. And she calls me her best friend. But then again, I always seen her in another world: drawing something on her wrists, writing away in her diary, using a camera to capture any damn thing, singing something to herself. She was so normal in her own weird way.
Her face is the most outrageously ferocious one. She has always been the wild child of the wind, hair scattered over her face, so like the clouds over the sky. In anger, her face flushed red like the big hard sun. She could pick a fight with anyone and end up winning it all the time. But life had won over her now. Enya, was calmer, quieter and and more peaceful. As I enter her apartment, her playful smile and "waddya want?" expression in her eyes greet me.
She never wanted to leave the place she so loved. I hold her hand, assuring her as only a friend could that everything is alright and she just nods and gives me a no-worry-on-tomorrow smile. But despite that hard attempt, those piercing eyes and weird piercings, her features had kindled to a great extent. She wasn't the same Enya who had pushed me during that buji jump. This newer Enya couldn't even step on a bug. How would she pick up a brawl?
She starts packing again. She has packed everything except for a pullover. She said she'll wear it at the airport tomorrow. As I look at the pullover, it's the same as I had given her once on one of her birthdays. She kept mending it for years while I knew that she was there. I'm shocked she still has it. She wears it again, despite that perfect Massachusetts summer, looking directly at the Boston skyline. She seemed to be promising it of an unfateful return.

"Why are you going there anyway?"
"To know where I came from Mimi..."
"And what do you know about em'?"
"Nothing?!?! Well, how the hell can you be so comitted to people you don't even know?"
"Mimi, they're my family."
"A family you don't even know?"
"Mimi, bloods in your veins. It just is there. It don't need to know food. It just takes it in."
"Enya, sometimes I don't get you."
"Honey," she hugged me so sweetly for the first time in my life. Her voice seemed changed, more polite and inclined to a weird sweetness. "You're not the only one."
"Get your hands of me slop!" I say as she would've said if I ever hugged her. "Does Angelus know?" Angelus is the man she loves.
"No? Enya! You LOVE him!"
"And that's why I won't tell him. That would just make him uspet!"
"Kill me... What's gone into you?"
"Mimi, you won't get the gist of it. We're peace. So be us."
As she ignores the details I ask, tears start filling in my eyes. She had changed, softened, became more fragile. I saw her in anger, I saw her in despair, I saw her bewilderment, but never her fear. And she was beautiful still in her fear... She was the beautiful I needed to be to have the world beneath my feet and hold my head up high like her. But this new Enya... The world wasn't below her feet and our heads were at the same level, her still bowing lower. I remember her wildness, her craze, her gyspsy features being overtaken by domestication and making amends with life. The tears start getting more intense. I am crying now. I can't cry! I'm too young to give up. I rush out of that apartment. This isn't the Enya I had befriended. Rather, the one who had befriended me. There was a different girl and I said to her... Goodbye Enya.
The END! Now... how'd you like it? Yes, it's original, it's mine. So OPEN TO CRITISISM! Let me know through comments and stuff. And NEWS ALERT: There would be no entries in February! I repeat: no entries in February. What? I have a life too you know. A life outside blog, outside facebook, outside cellphone! So, I'll check in for the comments though (keep em' comming). And do suggest me something whacky.



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