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I made a joke, you laughed and looked for that book. I went on with life and you found your book. You laughed again and repeated the joke, I felt stupid.

I don’t want you to smile, I don’t want you to look sad. You don’t need to put on a show to be yourself. I want it raw and rough but tender all the same. Your fingers can be tender but only if the light hits them just right. We’re both on the same team I know it, you accepted my application years before I even applied.

I can walk in the middle of a crowd and know that if I need help someone will help. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and know that if I don’t want to be noticed I won’t be. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and feel whole. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and respect the others. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and make friends. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and want to run. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and see people I’ll never see again. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and feel totally at home. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and feel alone. I’m not the only one. When 2 or more people feel alone but are together are they still alone? Being alone is a made up concept that only a selfish person could have made up.

When I think nobody else hears me. When I think I am the only one giving. When I think I am the only one to blame. When I think other people are doing the same thing. When I think I can either empower myself or tear myself down. When I think I feel. When I think I sometimes don’t like what I hear. When I think it all goes down from there. When I think I usually analyze objects. When I think I am not quiet. The only time I am quiet is when I’m not thinking. When I’m sleeping I’m dreaming and thinking. Nobody is ever truly quiet so don’t ask me why I’m quiet because I’m not, I have the biggest mouth (I mean mind) than anybody else in this room.

I heard my voice today. I heard it a lot. But not as much as the other people because on another level I knew I didn’t want to hear my voice. I knew I didn’t have to listen to it I knew I could walk away but my voice is my voice and I might as well get accustomed to it, right? “I swear I don’t sound like that in real life” she said. Hah, fuck you do I thought really loudly. I thought so loud I bet somebody else heard me. I kept looking at people when they were talking because usually thats what you do but nobody else did it because they knew how I felt about my voice. My voice. My voice. My voice. My voice. My voice sounds like this, this is my voice and I can’t like it or not like it because its My voice. Mine.

I always let myself win, and you always get mad at the simple things, I feel bad that you feel so strongly against the little things, because the little things make me happy. I’ll just blur that shit out.

Author: Arundhati Roy

After reading this book (a six month journey) I felt relief, sadness, and contentment. This book contains layers, lots and lots of layers (incest, caste, religion, and sexuality). Each layer was written out in such a way that is believable. Sometimes the layers got confusing making much of the first half of the book hard to get a hold of. However, the ending ties up any loose ends that the reader may have had.

Roy plays with words and when I say play, I mean handles and examines them and isn’t afraid to break boundaries that other authors have set forth.

I can’t help but think that Arundhati is very childish in real life. She has the ability to personify children very believably. I like how she added surprise an intrigue even on the last page, how she explained the seemingly unimportant details while not explaining others. In this book you can hear her voice, her unique voice. I don’t regret reading this book one bit.

I don’t know what I feel. Don’t feel silly. I’ll try not to. Thanks alot. For what? Escaping the time. They’re giggling! Run away or throw a rock at them! I can’t, they know we’re here… We both know we didn’t mean the same thing. I suppose, why? We’re both right. We stand corrected. Imagine what being on the news would feel like. I’d rather make lists y’know. I know, but remember? What? How long that second was? Talk about the bad times. I remember the bad. Are you there yet?
You could say that…it usually is a happy thing, not right now though. I hate that. What? The unhappy love. I can’t wait until I can feel totally comfortable with a male. I’m always in my head and my head always seems to be doing the talking and I want to get out of that.

You really don’t have to be a pushover all the time. Part of me wanted you to be because at the time it was the right thing to be, do what I say and you’ll succeed in life. But thats not true, only this one time will you succeed. Only this one time should you really be a pushover. All other times you should stick up for yourself and do what you feel is right.

I know that there is a missing link and thats why the music is playing. I know this feeling inside of me, this clenched up heart, this muddled brain, and I know what it leads too and I hate those chalky pills so much. I miss the music already but I can play it in my own head. I can make my own music without becoming cheese, I can, I can, I CAN!

He looks so good but I can’t touch the television screen. I can’t stand next to him, I can’t smell him. I can look at myself in the television reflection but thats boring. I’ve seen myself before. It was an addiction but not anymore. Nope, no more self enjoyment, no more pleasure, no more hope, no more steely cold. None of that. I don’t even know whats going on in those moving pictures. I can’t wait until that age when I can feel safe to do what you did but do it with more passion and more recklessness and less thought. Maybe then I will feel good about not being able to see you. Maybe then I’ll have validation. Its a diy strip club and I can tell your dreams are coming true (mine aren’t if you really want to know). I don’t want to be looking over my shoulders all the time. Allthetime.

I think its a bit of magic how you’re getting smashed all the time. I like the little hamster and your perfect hair. Everybody always pretends they have claws. I know what that sound means. All the time I hear it. Allthetime. I can’t wait until I get to that place, it’ll feel so good. I felt nervous but that can only mean one thing and usually new things are good things. I said I can call I suppose. I’m scared, the message you left, the broken up language, the beep that cut off your train of thought. My thoughts are a steam engine of fuck.