Control

It excites me. Strangers. New places. New faces. The unexpectedness of it all. The uncertainty. I only know their faces. And sometimes their voices. But not their names. Or jobs. Or if they had brothers or sisters or what their favorite sport was. They tell me stories sometimes, just small talk, and I listen. Of places they’ve been to, of things they had seen or done. These details intrigued me. They’ve been to more places than I have. Done more things than I have. Sometimes, I think I’ve been to better places, done better things, know better people. But maybe that’s just in comparison. Some make confessions. Admit to things they wouldn’t under any other circumstance. But the sort of confining you get in giving a complete stranger some burdened information so that its weight is no longer their own burden to bare. But I just listen. I like listening to the strange new things that have across their paths. Interesting people they meet and strange places they’ve been to. Colorful buildings, tall monuments and dramatic rituals from distant tribes. Not their silly everyday trifles like wives or girlfriends or mothers who prod them to marry soon. I’m young and immature. I don't make much plans. I take it as it comes. I have nothing much to worry about. Just to look forward to. Who will intrigue me tomorrow? I’m here for quite some time now. It’s still new. Maybe I’m naïve and silly. Maybe I’ll get fed up of it eventually. Maybe the decadence of it all will someday get to me. And then I’d move on looking for new things to do and new places to be at. But for now, this is me. 

The newness of the faces I meet. The hands that touch me. The different shades of perfume they wear. They linger on me longer than they do. Strong. Very unlike the soft fruity ones I wear. I’ve even been called edible. Maybe it’s the perfume. Some say other things too. Vain things like asking me not to break their hearts. How trivial. How can I break their hearts? It’s inside their chest cavity, a little far beyond where I usually reach, between the two lungs, more to the left because I hear it louder on that side. Most are quite rapid. Only a rare few are calm because they know it’s just a contract. Like any other deal, done and dusted after it’s sealed. Mine is always steady. Always. I make sure of that. It’s that control, that minute precision, to that level of perseverance into which I control myself when they flutter like fickle children. It’s quite addictive, actually. I feel power. In how I manipulate their bodies in ways that even they do not have control of. In the same way a conductor would guide his orchestra. Steady strokes of a stick. They’re my orchestra. Their hearts, their instruments. Over which I have complete control. I say exactly what happens, when it happens. They abide, sometimes forcing themselves to accept that. This is how the deal works. I become their trophy. They do what I say. 

Some would argue that this is temporary, and therefore meaningless. But I like temporary. I actually prefer it. Where I come from, temporary is how things functioned. Temporary is exciting. It leaves room for more things to happen. Whereas, forever is predictable. I promise here and now. Because people who promise forever are liars. Or short-sighted. Everyone knows that. I’m honest in what I promise, and that is here and now. Complete authority. I don’t promise forever. That’s why they like me. They themselves know that the forevers they promised others are most probably not even close to forever. In a way, I make them see, accept it. 

I learn every day. Of books. And men. And how to play the game. Their game. Their tricks and travesties. The ones that mothers warn little girls to watch out for. I want to learn, of the world, of it's people, of it's ways. Everyday. Something new. Someone new. I want to be the one who sees. The angel and the devil inside the dame person.  I’d like to think I’m learned. Because I’ve seen where it all originated. Fear, I think. Timidity. Compliance.