Something about ZED-ry.

Dear Damien,

Zed is crazy. I have to tell you about him. I met Zed when I was transferred here in June. He has some sort of feminine traits. No, its not the bodylanguage. He is one of those metrosexual men who has 10 different pairs of formal loafers (they all look the same to me), 6 pairs of spectacle - 2 of which are of Armani frames, carries a Prada wallet and claims it was "just" a gift from someone, and doesn't think twice about wearing pastel pink and purple formal shirts to work.

The orbit of his jokes revolve around sex, food, fuck, cock, chocolates, the vah-jay-jay, sex, fuck... did I mention sex? You get what I mean. It is either that, or invariably women-centric wisecracks.

He drinks like a horse and eats like a glutton and his laugh is a cross between a roar and a cough. And to compensate for the large quantity he consumes througout the day, he has only green apples and yoghurt for breakfast. Shockingly, the only evidence that food is being actually stored are his almost cherubic chubby cheeks.

He attends to a 7 year old's distress the same way he does with a 70 year old. He takes his jokes equally seriously. That characteristic uninhibited guffaws of his laugter is heard at least a mile radius around him. It also makes everyone around him start behaving like him. What power is that? Like a contagious yawn that keeps catching on. He is shamelessly nosy, unapologetically carefree, gossips like a schoolgirl, walks like he owns the world.

I hate to admit, Damien, he makes my job a joy just by being there and by being himself. I wish you could come out and meet him but I know that you are busy. World Wide Web is a hectic junk of a place to be.

You must be wondering where is Zed now? I came home Damien, and I make it a point not to bring crazy strange men back home with me. No matter how joyfully crazy they may be. :-)

Yours,

Isa

It was a good day

Dear Damien,
It was a good day today. I did not wake up in a shock as I have been doing these past few days. I did not have a nervous breakdown. I did not curl up in bed and skip work. I did not cry for more than 24 hours. It has been 4 days since he left with a promise that he'd be back soon. The bed seems so large and more empty than usual. I sleep on my couch with the tv on until my neck is paralysed in pain, then I find my way into the room, onto the bed, under the cold covers.

Mummy didn't call. No messages or calls from home. Neither did I call her. My bestfriend, May, had messaged, assuring me that everything will be alright soon. I hope she was nearer to me, physically.

The rumours of yet another transfer is hot around here at work. I am promoted so I stand a good chance. Am praying that I am not victimized and thrown to a god-forsaken place with only grass for company. Whoever you are up there, please listen.

All my collegues are bugging me to follow them for the 3D version of 'Avatar' which I have already seen. I want to watch it again with D. Hope he comes back soon. My friend, Zed, is hovering. His big eyes darting frequently onto my screen, squinting to see what is it that I am so feverishly writing to you. I'll write you soon, Damien... another letter....

Yours,
Isa

I am here for now.....

Dear Damien,

I wasn't able to make it home for new year. There were so many problems. I had come back late from work on new year's eve, D missed his flight that night. We spent most of the following morning looking for a travel agency to book his flight for the same night. I was angry with him but I tried not to show it. It was such a difficult task, my expressive face works against me most of the time. He knew that I was a little upset.

I went home to mummy's pretty late. Looking at them still breaks my heart. Dad spared me till late afternoon. "So, Isa, have you changed your mind about him? Your mum is falling sick. She cries constantly. I am so worried about her health and your future." As usual, we fought again regarding D. It is always the same. Everytime. Daddy cried, mummy cried, I cried. And I took off... came back to my apartment.

Why did I fall in love? And why is this such a tragedy for mummy, Damien? Why am I in this place at this point of time in my life? Why is it that they can't see what I see, and try as I might, I can never see what they seem to see. They all mean well, I know. Am I being selfish? Choosing this man who is not approved by anyone in my family. Doesn't character matter anymore? D is a good man. He is a self-made man. I can't wrong him. Especially not after everything that I have put him through.

I wish you were here, Damien. I wish you could tell me what to do. I love them to bits. And though I never thought this was possible, I have grown to love D so much. What does a woman who loves her family and her man do when they are tearing her in half?

How do I survive, Damien??? I am here for now, I am alive... but what about tomorrow? How do I get through that..?

Yours,

Isa