D41V30N's Dreams, Reveries and Reality

She was looking at me. I could feel it. Even though I was looking at the tray kept near the dishes in the buffet, and then - after picking up a tray - I averted my eyes towards the box containing spoons and forks, I could feel her gaze on me. She was standing on the queue opposite to the queue I was in - both waiting our turn to fill our trays with lunch - Day Two of the Cruise. And I could not but think she was staring at me. It was time to confirm whether my prediction was correct. Yes, my sister was just walking past by her towards our table. I called for my sister and asked her our table number - and while doing so, I took notice of her as well. She was definitely looking at me. Her eyes were definitely facing me. And she was very beautiful. In fact, how much time had it actually been since I have seen a woman so pure and beautiful? Her skin was as fair as snow. Her eyes sparkled like the most glorious of diamonds. Her lips felt like a Paradise yet to be infringed by man - so virgin and so unblemished. And most surprisingly, she was in her hijab (Muslim covering cloth) - further intensifying her purity. She was an angel. And I was in awe.

"What should I do? She is looking at me. Should I look at her? At her eyes? Should I smile at her? After all, I have done it before. Or should I create another opportunity? I can do that too. I have done that too. Many times. I want to know her…"

… … …
Hijab - I am quite sure everyone here knows about it. Whenever women from the Muslim nations are showed in television, they are showed wearing a cloth that covers their entire body apart from their face only. A powerful piece of clothing that is intended to deliver a powerful message about our religion - show the world how pure the religion of Islam is.
You see, most men nowadays are charmed by skimpy clothing worn by women. Even the women advantage out of these baseless clothes to attract men or to attract attention. Honestly, I find it pathetic. Short skirts that reveals your panties by the slightest of wind. Short pants that lets everyone devour your thighs with their eyes. Tight clothes that allows men to clearly make up your breasts. Revealing clothes that allows everyone to witness what a wonderful cleavage you have. Yes, I am proud to say that I find it pathetic.
Face. Personality. Body. Overall, these are the three things that men usually look for in their women. Personally, my thoughts are like this. If you find her "face" to be fascinating, go for her and learn about her "personality". If her "personality" sucks, then she is a total reject - at least, for me. After all, the same "personality" that I may find to be awkward may be alluring to someone else. So you see, I check the "face" first, but the significance of "personality" triumphs over the "face". The significance of "body" clearly does not matter to me; it never did.
However, nowadays, you clearly do not find many men prioritizing "personality" over everything else. Body. And Body. "She has a nice body. I want her." How many men do you find saying: "I like her personality. I do not care if she has small breasts. She is cute. I like her." Not many nowadays, do you? Men are perverts. Lust over sentiments. Men want to feed their eyes with how amazing the body of a woman is. Women know that. Women know what to give to the men they have their eyes on. Women want to be watched. Women want everyone to know how beautiful their skin is. Women want everyone to know how amazing their bodies are. Women want everyone to find out how silky and smooth their hair is. Women want everyone to look at their wonderful thighs, a trailer of their voluptuous breasts, the shape of their curves. Ultimate result - they wear these clothes. Skin tight. Revealing. Short. Skimpy. Not all, but most, conditionally (because they want attention) or unconditionally (because the others who does wear them seem to be getting more attention, thus, eventually surrendering to these clothes), wear them for these reasons. It is astonishing how much the body of the woman can affect the mind of a man, isn't it?
Hijab, on the other hand, destroys every attraction that relates to the "body". It does now allow the man to shape the body of a woman in their minds. It does not allow the man to perceive her skin. It does not allow the man to witness her hair even. It just enables the man to see her face - and only her face. Now tell me one thing: a woman whom you refer to as beautiful after witnessing her face and body or a woman whom you refer to as beautiful after witnessing just her face only - which one of them makes a greater impact in your mind? The latter, isn't it? A beautiful girl who wears skimpy clothing - you are in awe by her face and body - dirty and perverted. A beautiful girl who wears hijab - you are in awe just by her face - and there is no influence of the body at all - pure and clean.

I admire women who cover their bodies well. It would be unmanly of me to say that I do not find the revealing clothes in women to be attractive. However, that attraction is unclean and impure, and just like I mentioned before: I find it pathetic. I do not want to be pathetic. Therefore, for a long time, I have always built an "aura of sophistication" around me. In other words, when a woman in such clothes falls under my line of vision, I look away - always - and pretend I am not noticing it. And when she talks to me, I - intentionally or unintentionally - deliver the message: I do not like the way you are dressed, Miss. Not looking at places where she wants to be looked, keeping the conversation to as minimum as possible, looking at someone else or somewhere else while talking to her, and keeping an expression that shows disappointment - it is quite easy actually. Why so? I do not like it.
Hijab - this piece of clothing, on the other hand, has led me to confusion various number of times. I do not find it pathetic. And I do not find myself becoming pathetic. I find myself nervous. The very thought - I was attracted just by her smile, just by the beauty expressed in her face only, and her body had nothing to do with it - makes my heart leap. Normally, when you find the face of a woman in skimpy clothes to be attractive, intentionally or unintentionally, your eyes are bound to progress downwards to explore her body. Face. Collarbones. Breasts. Curves. Hips. Legs. You see it all. And that is how it becomes dirty. A shaky feeling is born, but it is originated from lust - some kind of inner dark passion. When you find the face of a woman in hijab to be attractive, your eyes lay fixed at her face and her face only. You see her eyes, her smile, her cheeks. And the spectacle kills your desire to progress your eyes downwards. You keep staring just at her face - with no negative thoughts, no feelings of lust. And that is how it becomes clean and pure. A shaky feeling is born, you feel light, and it is originated from nervousness, joy, and the eagerness to get closer to her - but not to see her body, but to see her heart.

This is my perspective of the Hijab - a very respectable piece of clothing that eliminates all desires for lust and fills your mind with positivity the moment you perceive the face of the woman covered in this magnificent piece of clothing.

… … …
Day Three - and it was breakfast. She walked with small bowl in her hand towards her family. Corn flakes. Chocopops. In fact, these were exactly what I was having for breakfast myself. I was with my family in the terrace, because the terrace of the top deck was undoubtedly the best place to have your breakfast. Yes, beneath the sky, amidst the wind, surrounded by the sea.
Her family sat two tables apart from us. She was headed there. Unconditionally, my eyes raced towards her. And maybe unconditionally for her as well, she faced towards me as she gently marched towards her table. Our eyes met. She widened her eyes. She looked away. And so did I. Was I nervous? I turned off my "aura of sophistication". Why did I look away? Obviously, she checked to see whether I was still peeping at her. I was not. My eyes were on my food, but my mind was on her. She sat with her family. I drank the juice - and while doing so, I realized that she looked at me again now. My curiosity was lifted. I gently placed myself over a decision. I will talk to her.
Obviously, I was not aiming for a shot at romance. It is pathetic, if you ask me, devoting or expecting romance from someone who lived worlds away. On the other hand, maybe I was. She was beautiful. She was Muslim. She was pure. And she made me nervous. An infatuation, perhaps. However, one thing was certain, whether or not my aim was romance, I did wish for friendship. Expectations for romance when we lived worlds apart may clearly be noted as stupid. Nevertheless, such friendship - on the other hand - never had me disappointed. Obviously, these friends can never offer you their lives as there is vast amounts of land and water between you, but they will offer you their marvelous advices and heart-warming consolation in the direst of the situations in either very peculiar ways or very serious ways - both of which will make you smile and believe: "I have made some great friends all over the world".
Yes, I was hoping she could become one of them. I was hoping I could make her one of them. I have done so before. In Thailand. In Malaysia. I could have easily done so once again. Or so I thought.

… … …
The Hijab - though I respect the cloth so graciously, I have had my traumatic experiences with it. We live in a world full of extremists. Extremists at politics. Extremists at religion. Extremists at claims. In the Holy Quran, the Book of Islam, it was never mentioned to bomb ourselves along with the others for the religion. It never taught us to become terrorists. The Quran never taught us to be extremists - in fact, it taught us never to be extremists, especially in the case of the religion. Yes, we were taught to preach the word of Islam in the world, but it definitely did not teach us to "bomb" them if they neglected it's word. Honestly speaking, it taught us to live with our beliefs, and let them live with their beliefs once they had denied the preaching. Belief can never be obtained by force, it comes from within - and that is how Islam was and should be preached. But the blood that runs through the people of Bangladesh is a blood full of extremist DNA, and when this blood is given to those who are whole-hearted about preaching the religion, the mutation results the worst kind of extremists.
No, in fact, their forefathers were the ones who were whole-hearted about preaching the religion. Now, they just use the religion to shield themselves. The Jama'at Islam Political Party have a huge history in our country. During the war in 1971 against Pakistan, our father of the nation, Sheikh Mujib, asked for aid from India to fight against Pakistan. The Jama'at were afraid. They were afraid that India may take over the country, and convert it to a Hindu nation instead of a Muslim nation. They showed the Pakistan Military where the most talented of our men were - each and every one of them famous for their history - and the Pakistan Military slaughtered them. The Jama'at became criminals, but back then, they did it out of fear. And they were privileged by the Pakistan Military. The Pakistan Military raped our women. And so did many from that party. Where on Earth in any religion is it permitted to rape the innocence of women? And to top it off, they were saying they are a party who represents the religion of Islam - a religion regarded by all the greatest scholars in the world to be the most peaceful religion. Don't fuck with me! These people have no right to call themselves Muslims! They only had Muslim names, and that was all! In the end, they were just human beings pursuing worldly temptations, and that was all! For these twisted people, our religion has been belittled in front of the world. Is it the fault of the religion? No! Islam never taught us these. It is the fault of human desires. It is the fault of extremism in hearts - and it has misled all of us countless number of times.
And what irritates me most is that those very same people, to this date, are still alive, and they are using Islam - our religion - as their shield just to protect themselves. Of course, they proclaim themselves as the political party which represents the religion, and if they are oppressed, they can accuse the oppressor to be oppressing the religion itself. That is why, not many are able to oppress them. I hate them. Nevertheless, surprisingly, their threats are controlling much of our country. And yet again, surprisingly, they are belittling our religion.
For example, our president erected a statue in our national airport. The Jama'at threatened that if the statue was not brought down, they would cause unrest in the country. The statue was brought down. During riots, they stashed arms and ammunition in a holy place like the Mosque. When the new Imam for Baitul Mukarram - the largest mosque in the capital city of Dhaka - was elected, many protesters protested against the decision by throwing their sandals and shoes at the Imam as soon as he had begun the Jumu'ah prayer just because the Imam had some pronunciation problems. What on Earth was that? That incident was watched by millions across the globe - and the ultimate result was the belittling of the Muslims. And worst of all was when the Jama'at head, Nizami, was compared to our Holy Prophet Muhammad (S.M) by the Jama'at party. Naudhubillah. How can any person ever compare someone else to Muhammad (S.M)? And they say they are the political party representing our religion. They are clearly not preaching Islam. They are just another political party hungry for power. And they are belittling our religion in doing so.
And what of the bombings then? I apologize. I got carried away from my original intention. Nevertheless, I felt I clearly required this divulgence. The Bombings - and that is where I had my first traumatic experience with the Hijab. A woman covered in hijab calmly walks up to the police check post and literally blows herself up - taking along with her the men, women and children around her. Note, in our religion, the largest of all sins is the act of "suicide" and the person who commits suicide will never be rewarded with Heaven. There is a clear difference between "Sacrifice" and "Suicide" - and only the act of suicide can lead to terrorism. They convince themselves that it is "sacrifice" for the religion. What they do not know is how pathetic their sense of rationality is? It was an incident that took place at the end of the road I was in - with my girlfriend.
You see, the hijab completely covers your body - and it does not let you behold anything that you may hold within. People are advantaging from it. They are carrying illegal drugs, arms, bombs and so much more inside - allowing them to walk freely within the crowd. My wallet was once stolen by a lady wearing hijab who sat next to me in a public bus. The moment I realized she had it, I tried my best to catch her - but it was out of the question through the cramped space of the bus. In my English class, I witnessed with my very own eyes how a girl in hijab effortlessly picked up the digital dictionary and hid it in her scarf. Our teacher's secretary was behind her and caught her red-handed - and she was thrown out of class. Heck, I even saw male criminals in hijab in the news; many do so to conceal themselves after the crime.
And there was the time when one of my lady friends said that one of her best friends - in hijab - had a huge crush over me. I remember, she called me, and when I thought someone called me, I looked back. She was silent. She was looking down. She wanted to say something. And all the other girls near her were giggling. I pretended that it was just my imagination and looked in front once again. I thought about it - I had female friends who have been very protective and chaste before, but never a female friend who wears a hijab. Why don't I at least befriend with her? However, I soon discovered something. As I found her in my line of vision several times, subconsciously maybe, I discovered it - that it was not just me, that she would seek romance from just any man who met the requirements. And I lost my interest.

I hate them. People who advantage out of the hijab. I hate how their acts are blemishing such an astoundingly pure clothing.

… … …
Day Three - and the restaurant was as crowded as ever for dinner as well. And once again, I found her. Surprisingly, this was the first time I found her not looking at me. She was laughing with her family - with the two more sisters she had. And I was awe-struck. Completely taken aback by her beauty. It was the first time I had seen her smile. And her smile was so pretty. So pure. She felt my gaze - maybe. She started her eyes for me. And I stared elsewhere before her eyes landed over me. Yes, once again, I pretended I was not looking at her. It was definitely not what I decided. It was against my decision. I decided I would not avert my eyes from her anymore. Then why? Why did I look away? I was disappointed at myself.
I did not want to be disappointed any longer. I wanted to prove myself that I am better. I have been successful in this line throughout my entire life. And now, when I am marching towards adulthood, what on Earth is happening to me? And by the time I made my resolve, she was bathing herself amidst the wind in the terrace. More importantly, she was alone. I was alone. And though there were many people around, none of our families were at sight. Their dinner was over - and they had most probably left. Kismet. Fate. Destiny. It created the set-piece for us to at least share a conversation together. Her eyes were drenched in the sea. She was just standing there - silent. I imagined her waiting for me - to make the first move. I stood up. I took a deep breath. I started for her. Little did I know what would happen when I was about to take my first step.

I froze.
I tried to move.
I was still frozen.
I tried to move towards her.
I could not move towards her.

I turned.
I walked out of the terrace.
I walked out of the restaurant.

I was a coward.

… … …
"Gynophobia…"
"Huh? What the hell is that?"
"Irrational fear of women."
"What are you talking about? You are saying that to me. Of all people."
"Just think about it. Haven't you been avoiding conversation with women as much as you can?"
"Riight. And here I find myself talking to you."
"I am your friend, Nasif. Not to mention I was your ex-girlfriend as well. I am talking about those who aren't."
"I don't recall doing so."
"That is because maybe you don't realize it. Maybe you do it subconsciously."
"Heck, you're just messing with me."
"Like I said, just think about it. You've been giving only one sentence responses to girls lately. No, sometimes all you can put up is just a fake smile. That is all. You used to be much more energetic that this, don't you think? You even responded to me like that after we broke up."
"I was confused, that's all."
"And you are the type of person who always pokes his nose into other people's affairs to befriend with them better, ultimately leaving a good impression as you solve the case. You saved me from that pervert, remember. I clearly have not seen you do so for quite some time."
"We've been away for some time to begin with."
"Moreover, once a girl has approached you for the first time, you always take on the job of approaching her from then onwards. I have not seen you saying "Hi" to a girl for some time now. Even I had to go through the trouble of doing it for you when we met after a while."
"I…"
"Moreover, when they do so, you put on just another vague response. Isn't this what you call gynophobia? You are avoiding girls."
"Oi, you're being a weirdo again. You're definitely being a weirdo again."
"And you are running away from the topic. Nasif, you used to be the bravest boy I have ever seen in my entire life. You could nail anything - no matter how embarrassing or awkward - in front of anyone just to leave that good impression which will take you forward with a certain someone. I experienced it as the certain someone, so I know. And I have never seen anyone approach someone else with such power."
"Gawd, don't you feel the least bit of embarrassment mouthing something like that? He-he."
"What? You never looked like you were flirting with me. You never tried to be cool or moody with me. Most boys try to act cool in front of me, expecting that I would be the one to go and speak up to them, and it really irritates me. I was taken by your approach."
"Are you supposed to be complimenting me or embarrassing me?"
"You were funny. You were frank. And you created a situation where I thought the two of us had been friends forever. Only that we were not. And that is why the only way I could describe the feeling was…"
"Mira… umm… let's not go over there."
"I get it. Anyway, the bottom line is that you are not what you used to be. Given everything that you have been through over the past year, it is likely for any man to take a breather from relationships."
"Let's not go over there either, okay. I'm still depressed, you know."
"Right, but maybe because of that, you are starting to fear women. And due to your fear for women, you are trying your best not to involve with them. And that is gynophobia."
"I was right! You are just messing with me! Ha-ha!"
"Alright, if you deny to accept this theory, then I'm afraid you are…"
"I am…?"
"A Coward…"

Coward…?

… … …
Day Four - breakfast - and it was probably the final chance that I will ever achieve to communicate with her - the Lady in Hijab - the woman who had me in wonderland every single time my eyes would fall across her face. I did not want to run anymore. I did not want to cower back anymore. I wanted to prove to the world and, more importantly, to myself that I am not a coward. I wanted to prove to the world I have not changed. I wanted to prove to the world that I am the same old Nasif that my friends loved so much. I was motivated. I moved towards her. She just entered the queue. Unfortunately, I could not enter the queue right after her - three others had already entered after her, and more were gathering at the tail. I had to find another way. And I did.

… … …
"Your girlfriend comes up to you. She says that she likes someone else. And passionately, she awaits your answer. What are you going to say to her?"
"I will say that it's okay and let her go easy."
"You won't resist?"
"Why should I? It seems like the right thing to do. After all, if she says that she likes someone else, then I think I have no right to interfere."
"You're serious?"
"Besides, the two of us can still be friends, right."
"Your feelings sure are cheap. Do you engage in relationships knowing that the two of you will eventually have to break-up?"
"Oh, we won't have to break up, actually. We will break up. He-he."
"You're even cheaper that I thought! I said that she passionately awaited your response. I did not say that she wanted to break up with you, now did I?"
"It's the same thing, you idiot."
"No, it's not! At times like these, you are supposed to feel jealous. The girl clearly said this to testify you. She wanted to witness the depth of your love for her. She wanted to confirm whether or not you would stop her if she were to run off with someone else. She expected something from you. How can you step on her feelings like that?"
"I… never thought of it like that. My bad. He-he."
"Bro…"
"Hmmh…"
"You know that I would never ask something this stupid to you, now do you?"
"I was thinking the same thing. Who on Earth set you up to say such stupid things anyway?"
"You know exactly who."
"I…" (The Cousin's Cousin Character)

"He is not my boyfriend."
"It's okay. There is nothing to feel embarrassed about. It is the springtime of your youth."
"No…"
"Besides, the era is like this. Even children from Class 1 or Class 2 are engaged in relationships nowadays. I don't see any problem with you having a…"
"No, like I said, he is not my boyfriend. Please try…"
"Hey, are you afraid that I may leak it to the grown-ups? Don't worry, I definitely won't. I know how to keep a secret."
"Please try to understand. I am still single. I do not have any boyfriend."
"Alright, if you are going to insist so much, okay, you don't have a boyfriend. Happy now?"
"You don't really believe me, do you?"
"Oh, there we go. Finally I agree that you do not have a boyfriend and you're saying that I do not believe you. Where on Earth do I go with you, idiot? He-he."
"Hey, Nasif Bro."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Well, I broke up last week."
"I… I'm really sorry."
"Apart from the fact that my parents caught me making out with her, it's really okay now."
"You… were making out?"
"Well, if my parents came in five minutes late, they probably would have seen something a thousand times more explicit. He-he."
"You've… been there…?"
"Hoo-hoo, and a lot many other places as well."
"…"
"I'm just kidding. Just kidding." (Obviously not!)
"Do you still love her?"
"Love? To be honest, I am kind of relieved actually. Now my parents know that I have been doing this for a long time. The freedom is indescribable, really."
"No no, I'm talking about her."
"Well, I'm not worried about her. She may be feeling very heartbroken right now, but she will heal in time. Everyone does."
"…"

Come to think of it, what have I been doing again? If I insisted towards my parents that I really "loved" her - like she told me to, the two of us could still be in the relationship. We could have reached a "commitment". She wanted it. She fought with her parents over me. I did not. I accepted everything my parents threw at me. I apologized to them. I told them I would break up with her. I called her. I told her I could not continue this relationship any longer. She was heartbroken. She shouted at me. She had fought with her parents for me and now I called her to say that I gave up. No, I did not even care to try to begin with. What was there to give up anyway? I accepted everything she threw at me. I apologized to her. It was farewell.
And then I thought, how many times has it been like this again? Most of my relationships ended because I showed little anticipation when it came to these dire moments - during the third semester exams when I would be the examinee and the girl would be the examiner. I may have acted as it did not matter, but I actually felt ashamed of myself when my own younger sister called my feelings cheap. Yes, they were cheap, but that coming from my four years younger sister drove a spear into my chest, even though I know that she was taught each and every word by the other girl.

My feelings sure are cheap. Maybe, just maybe, if they were not, Samantha would still be alive today. Or at least, she could have died with a smile. Maybe she could have died in such a way that she could find satisfactory in her own death. Maybe Mae would not despise me. Maybe two of us would still be like the best of friends like we used to. Maybe I would not have broken Mira's heart. Maybe I would not have heartlessly neglected Pristina. Maybe I could have still led my romantic college life with Mira and Pristina. Maybe I can see Lisa once again someday. Maybe the weight of my mistakes would not have been so heavy. Maybe I would not have lost my mind. Maybe I would not have been so miserable as I am today.

Maybe I could have become a better human being.

… … …
"Assalamu-Alaikum"
"Walaikum-Assalam"
"I forgot to take the dressing for my salad."
"It's okay. Here, give me your tray."
"So, where are you from? You don't see girls from your culture here too often."
"What are you saying? There are lots of girls here in hijab onboard the ship."
"They're all Malaysians. I'm talking about the culture. You look Middle Eastern."
"Saudi Arabia, to be more precise. He-he. Where are you from?"
"Saudi Arabia, huh? I come from the same place."
"Really?"
"Just kidding. I come from Bangladesh."
"That's…"
"… Definitely not India."
"He-he."
"Anyway, are you enjoying the cruise?"
"Not much, exactly. Most of the attractions are…"
"… Unlikely for Muslims, aren't they?"
"Yes. The Casino. The Bar. The Swimming Pool. I really can't go in any one of these."
"Do you want to?"
"Oh, definitely not."
"Oh… my apologies…"
"It's okay, really."
"No, I'm definitely sorry. Because of me, you walked your way out of the queue without taking any food."
"What?"
"(sigh)"
"It… It's okay… you don't have to sweat it…"
"You see, the clock says you have only ten minutes remaining until they close down the dishes. And judging by the size of the queues, you have to use each and every second wisely if you do not want to be left out with an empty stomach in the morning."
"O… Oh…"
"Hurry up now. I'll see you later."
"I'll see you later too. Bye."
"Bye…"

Really, it looked like I caused her some trouble. The two of us kept walking and talking, ultimately resulting her to walk out of the queue without taking any food at all. It was her fault - she started walking when she could have stood there and talked. Nevertheless, I succeeded. I finally succeeded. Gynophobia or not. Cowardice or not. I emerged triumphant after the fight with myself during the last two days. I finally talked to her. And though it was short-lasting, I finally managed to talk to her. I felt great. And victorious. I wanted to talk to her once again. Her name? Her e-mail address? I still required the details. I was sure the feeling could not be defined by the word "love". By then, I was sure that I sought "friendship" from her. However, I was so energized because I finally managed to pull it off. I definitely would not falter this time. Cowardice, huh? At that moment, all traces of cowardice had vanished from within me, and I felt as if my insides were overwhelmingly gushing with courage and confidence. I was ready. I was ready for anything the world would throw at me.

…
… …
Why did it turn out this way? Honestly speaking, I had completely forgotten about her five minutes following our conversation. Stupid. Idiot. Irresponsible. My parents and I left the restaurant. I left the restaurant. She was still there. I was 100% sure she was still there. She had just begun her breakfast. So why on Earth did I leave? Simple, I forgot. Maybe she expected that I may show up once she had finished her breakfast. Maybe she did not. But maybe my presence could have bolstered the possibility of that expectation in her. An expectation for another conversation between the two of us. Maybe she was eager to befriend with me as well. After all, she was smiling - and it did not seem fake. After all, she was freely gossiping with me - to the extent where she had completely forgotten about her breakfast. After all, she had eyes of expectation - or at least that is how I managed to portray her in my mind. She did not show the slightest amount of hesitation while chatting with me. She did not show the slightest amount of annoyance or displeasure or awkwardness while chatting with me. I was confident she pursued friendship from me.

And it was already time for us to depart from the ship once I had figured that out. No, there was still chance. There was still some chance that I may stumble upon her on our way out. Or even outside the ship. But who am I kidding with? I have always been a human being who believed that chances themselves are man-made. Chances themselves are like bridges that help you get across from one part of the mind to another, and just like the bridges in our world, they require careful and accurate construction. There is no way I could have met her. And I was right.

It was pitiful. I was pitiful. Were my two days worth of thoughts still not enough for me to stay devoted to the objective at hand? Were my two days worth of thoughts meant that once I became absorbed into another discussion, I would completely detach from them?

Cowardice.
Indifference.
Carelessness.

Where else would these three lead me from now on? Let's see…
... ... ...