She hated mess!
That has been her problem, ALWAYS!
Even if it were simple things such as TV channels or songs in her I-pod or her wardrobe or whatever else, she didn’t like mess. It irritated her, gave her a severe headache and made her want to shout.
She would arrange all her favorite channels in an order so that she didn’t have to surf through all the other unwanted, unexpected channels on her way to the desired one. She hated mess as well as surprises. She never left a single song in her I-Pod unheard and deleted the ones which she hadn’t heard for a long time. They didn’t invite familiarity; they were new, they were strangers. She was scared of strangers. She read the same novel again and again instead of reading new ones for a change. New novels meant new stories, new characters, new emotions. That scared her to hell. Old books meant that she knew what was coming. It wouldn't surprise her at all. She was safe from unruly outbursts of undesired emotions. She was happy in her own little shell.
She had friends. She had a hell lot of friends, mind you. She would get friendly with each and every person that came her way. Maybe that was because she knew what price a person has to pay when they’re all haughty, arrogant and bitchy towards others. People didn’t need that. Most of all, from her.
But still, somehow, she couldn’t put a finger on ONE person and say that “Here, she’s my Besty! My life!” Never. Just like TV channels and music and books and wardrobe, she liked keeping tabs on her friend list. She had made these – for want of a better word, Table – of friends according to needs.
She had a list of different friends for shopping or to go for movies or when she wanted to eat or when she just wanted to sit quietly and let herself be washed over by all the memories and thoughts in the world but didn’t want to be alone; though she wanted that person to sit there totally silently. She knew whom she could call when she wanted to laugh. This need rose more often than others; maybe coz this was the only need for which she needed company, the rest she could manage pretty well without a crowd of chattering people around her. She was always the lonely types.
She didn’t feel the need to always be surrounded by people. In fact, she resented that. She loved being alone in middle of a huge crowd knowing that these people didn’t matter to her and that she didn’t have to pretend for any of them. She loved having that kind of freedom.
There was another, very peculiar thing about her. She was not a family person. No, she didn’t hate them or anything. She just didn’t feel much inclined towards them. She didn’t feel like she had any kind of duty towards them. She had blamed everyone besides herself for the way her life is now. Most of the blame was put on her family. Somewhere, deep down, she knew she was wrong. But whenever that particular thought or emotion threatened to overwhelm her, she turned to her computer resorting to her favorite pastime – stalking people on Facebook.
She hated romance. She didn’t understand the intensity of the word “love”. She couldn’t (or maybe didn’t) understand how love could make or break people, how love can make people go crazy or create such a strong intensity of pain or joy which nothing else can. And it wasn’t just a love which you find in a life partner. But take for instance, friends; sure she liked them, but not so much that she’d risk her own neck for them or something. Whenever she read Harry Potter she could always tell (As much as she hated it) that if there were any Hogwarts, she’d definitely be a Slytherin.
Love, they say, makes the world go round.
“The world is already round, people” she'd shout in exasperation “don’t start giving “love” all the credit for your sudden understanding in science, nature and astronomy”
She is still the same and she is NOT FICTION. It’s her, Dandelion. And she’s in search of a part 2 and also a happy ending. If only we could keep this “love” aside, please!