That Girl

I still remember that girl, even after so many years. The first time that I had met her, I hated her. Well, I thought I hated her till the end, but now, I guess I like her because she is unique. People hated her and she didn’t care. It was like she lived every moment to its fullest. She was different.


After the teacher did boy-girl sitting arrangement, I, sadly, had to sit with her. No one talked with her as they thought of her as a crazy person and I guess she was, downright crazy.


I remember that class where our class teacher was scolding us for some reasons and there was a pin-drop silence. Suddenly, she laughed so loud reading a joke from a joke book. She tried to apologize first but then burst out laughing again. The teacher got so furious that he slapped her and then banged on her back continuously. I saw her face and dear god, she was still laughing.


Out of curiosity, I quickly peeked at the joke she was reading and trust me, it wasn’t as funny as I had expected. That day, I felt bad and talked with her. While talking, she looked at me and said, “Can I tell you one secret?”

I was surprised but then I nodded.


“My dad passed away last year,” and she started to laugh remembering something. I looked at her with my eyes and mouth wide open.


She continued, “In my dad’s funeral, my mom was held by few people as she was crying and telling everyone that she wanted to jump on that fire and go with dad. Imagine a fat lady screaming to die with her dead husband while being held by people. It somehow looked like a movie and I laughed so loud everyone looked at me. Even mom stopped crying momentarily. Got the picture?”


She started laughing again and then told me, “I guess I pretended not to be sad for a long time that I didn’t realize I really forgot how to become sad.”


I never talked with her after that because she was crazy and I hated her too, like everyone did.


As I sit here on my chair abandoned by my children and grandchildren, living all alone in this empty house, I remember her and start to laugh like a crazy man. I think we didn’t hate her because she was crazy but we hated her because we could never be crazy like her.


She was one hell of a personality. I guess. She might be somewhere, old and wrinkled and laughing for some silly reasons. How I wish I could be like her. I suddenly start to cry remembering my children and right at that moment, her laugh starts to echo in my room. I know exactly what she would say, “You look like those old men abandoned by children in movies. Got the picture?”


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“That Girl”

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