Jason&Jane

“Jason.” Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Jane.” I replied in the same monotonic voice she gave me.
“What’re you doing?” This question always irked me, just a little bit. We talk on the phone for hours and a lot of our conversation has to be rerouted to this same question. It’s like the thread on some forum has died and this is the only way to spark a new one, to start a completely new topic. Why can’t she just randomly start the conversation, instead of using this method as a means of transition to something else?
“Why does it matter to you?” Answering a question with a question is redundant, but I felt no need to comply with her question.
“Well, we are talking on the phone, stupid.” Her semi-witty reply brought a deafening smile. I could imagine her smiling on the other side of the phone. Her reply isn’t really that witty, but I let her have that moment of pride.
“Ah, good point. I’m just thinking.” An answer so vague, anyone can predict the upcoming follow up question.
“What about?” And there it is.
“You.” I wasn’t being completely honest with this answer; although I wasn’t completely lying as well. My train of thoughts did include her, but I dared not share it with her, even if we are the closest of friends.
“Don’t be stupid.” Could she be any colder?
“I’m being serious.” She never did take me seriously in affairs regarding feelings.
“What about me?” Debating whether or not to share particular information with someone is quite tricky. It’s even trickier when it has to do with them. I sometimes wonder how KGB or CIA agents handle interrogation questions like these. Playing dumb certainly won’t help, because you’ve been caught. But comparing my conundrum with KGB and CIA interrogation extraction methods is clearly over exaggerating the entire situation.
“Nothing in particular.” You got to love vague answers.
“Stop being cryptic, will you?” Life is never fun without puzzles, or maybe that’s just me.
“Did you know that cynic rhymes with cryptic?” This is true.
“And so does you’re being a dick.” And so was her reply.
“Good one.” That answer deserved a moment of pride, but I could tell she was becoming sick of my cryptic messages.
“Are you going to tell me or not, Jason?” She wasn’t even asking a question at this point. She was merely stating, tell me or I’ll kill you when I see you, but in a subtler way.
“How long have we known each other?” Stalling was my forte, but she knows that as well.
“Seven years, is this relevant?” If patience is a virtue, then Jane is the exact opposite. Brutal honesty is her specialty and detours are her biggest pet peeve. I’m the complete opposite.
“How well do you know me?” See? Complete opposite.
“Well enough to know that you’re stalling, which means you’re deciding whether you should reveal your secret. You might as well though, what difference is one secret from the millions you’ve confided in me.” What’re best friends for, except to extort your deepest darkest secret out of the hiding place you call your mind.
“Prove it.” I’m running out of tactics.
“You’ve told me about how you’ve broken many young and naive girls because of your cynicism and lack of anything better to do. It’s something you take pride in, being a sweet talker and all. Although, in reality, you’re just being insecure and refuse to let any of these victims of yours get close enough to see you for who you really are. The lame dork I talk to every day.” Ouch, that’s below the belt.
“That’s not proving it.” I’m backed against a wall. I’m starting to debate whether she’s gained some sort of resentment over me after telling her my life adventures. Granted, I’m not the best human being, and I know I’ve done many unforgiving deeds, but I always assumed that Jane either didn’t care much for my antics or approved of it.
“Agatha, Sophia, Diane, Fiona, Gina, Helen, Kagome, Lisa, Patricia, Olivia, Yumi, Tina, Rita, Erika, Alicia, Alice, Vivian, Stephanie, Sandy, Nikki, Michelle, Michelle C, Michelle E, Carol, Anne, Gabby, Eileen, and your latest victim, Caroline.” Every last one of them, this is what I get for befriending someone with a memory span that would outlast my computer hard drive.
“You’re still not proving anything.” If I ever wanted to commit suicide, angering Jane would be the quickest way to get there.
“You’ve lost, Jason. You might as well tell me. You know you have no other question to circle around to. Just tell me. Will it really change how I see you? My best friend is a heartbreaking, cynical, heartless, spawn from hell asshole, and no secret you say will change that.” I smiled at her compliment. What she said was true, and if it was anyone else except Jane, I might’ve been a little bit insulted.
“I love you, Jane.” She’s not going to believe me.
“I know you do.” Typical Jane answer.
“No, I mean it. I love you.” I’m trying to win a losing war.
“And those other girls?” And there drops the Fat Man.
“I’ve got nothing that can possibly change how this situation seems right now.” Honesty and vagueness was my only hope. I was certain that being together with Jane was hopeless. I felt like I’ve been in the friend zone for seven long years and was going to be stuck there until death tears us apart. I tried to get over Jane with the means of using harmless flirting to keep my mind of it. But it never worked. No matter who it was, all I could think about was Jane. Like a KGB being brainwashed into perfection. I felt like I had to brainwash myself into a robotic state around Jane. It was the only logical way of getting out of the friend zone intact.
“Falling in love is a dangerous commitment.” Jane’s favourite motto, but it spoke nothing less than the truth.
“I know. I’ve been in love with you for seven years.” Seven years of trying to get over her.
“When did you fall in love with me?” I might as well be truthful.
“The minute I saw you.” I never thought I’d be admitting this.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I didn’t want to lose you.
“You told me you didn’t believe in love at first sight.”
“My opinion changed when I saw you.”

Boxed In.

Your entire life can be summed up in one word.
Your life circles around boxes.
You get up from your bed, which is in a shape of a box.
You do your morning routine of washing up and taking a shower in a room that’s a shape of a box.
After that you walk downstairs, open your box fridge, find something to cook on top of your box stove.
Or possibly a quick meal like cereal, which comes from boxes.
Then after breakfast, you head out your box-shaped door, and sit in a car.
Which is basically a box with wheels.
Or maybe you commute, but that’s still a box with wheels.
You pay fare and drop your coins in a box.
You arrive at the station and hope to find a seat in the moving box train called a subway.
You get off, and walk or take the streetcar to your work place.
By the way, the streetcar is still a box.
Then you get to work, and take an elevator.
Which is a box.
Then when you get off your floor, you sit inside a cubicle. Which is still a box.
You sit in front of a box screen, pressing little boxes on your keyboard that makes letters magically appear in the screen before you.
Then, after a long day’s work, you leave.
Take that same elevator back down.
Take the subway back home.
Ride your box with wheels to your garage.
Open your door.
And your home.
You’ll probably spend three hours on your own personal box computer, doing your little hobbies.
Or maybe do some rest and relaxation watching television.
That is in the form of a what?
Yes, box.
Good, you’re catching on.
Then after all is done, you wash up in your box washroom.
Lie down on your box shaped bed.
Only to wake up to the same routine, the same boxed life the next day.
Now, I restate my first statement.
Your life circles around boxes.