fear and carelessness

A Story by Mac

kept getting scolded since morning, so took out my anger in my words..again.

I didn’t know how and when to stop talking or how and when to start, during a conversation. That, finally led to disaster. I went on a tour of London for a science forum and met lots of people there. They were very friendly. I was kind of a dick during that time. I used to think that I was not in any case different from them. I loved making friends and chatting with people during my stay there.

To this day, I still don’t know what went wrong. At the near end of the tour, many would not talk to me anymore. They kind of just ignored me every time. I think they thought I was sort of a pervert or something in that category (most probably something worse!). I had studied in a boys school most of my life. So I didn’t know how to talk to girls. I hadn’t noticed that when I was there. Perhaps that was the case, or perhaps not, I don’t know.

I was on my medication at that time too, so it made things worse. I couldn’t sleep wondering what had I done wrong. After returning back to my country, a friend on Facebook ‘unfriended’ me. I wanted to know badly what my mistake was. I didn’t care whether he/she was in my friend list or not. The least I could have got in a reply was something which could have helped me in socializing better.

Those days were a major change in my life. I learned a thing that in my case has been really helpful. It was that I stopped being over-talkative with girls I met anywhere. Boys were good to talk to, but I kept a watch over my tongue (in the other sense) when around girls. I stopped caring about stuff relating to anything like regular habits. My hair would grow long enough and I wouldn’t care to get it cut. I would sit with my batch mates (all girls) and try to keep a minimum talking spree. That gave me a whole other life. BUT, there is always a ‘but’.

After I stopped caring about things, I started getting into fights with family members. They would keep honing me into cutting my hair and keeping a decent good look, not once, not twice, but literally all day. That made me mad. Another case of the heebie-jeebies struck when I would go out alone with my car to study. They would keep instructing me into driving safely and all, which would then further help in bringing disturbing thoughts while driving. Of course I had to take care, I knew that. They didn’t have to tell me more than twice! (it was at least around 12-15 times per day for the hair thing). Drove me nuts. That was just the start.

Going with the hair, they then started to tell me what my batch mates would be thinking about me, what the teachers would be thinking about me. I didn’t care, why would they? The worst thing came when they said that if someone would come to know that I was Mr.” (no name)“’s son, what reputation would THEY get on having such a son.

My exams are conducted in an all-girls school. So they tried to reason with me about my hair AGAIN! I thought fair enough. The teachers at the school were on friendly terms with me because I never talked much. They thought me creative enough for the limitations of a boy (since incidents like that I hated making enemies, so I never argued with them). They knew who I was and who my family was. I never cared what they thought about me. My family told me that the teachers at the school must be thinking that Mr. ” (no name)” has such a son. They said that my hair disrupted my looks (I never comb), and that looks are another main benefactor in showing the true manners of a child. The teachers would be disgusted in seeing me. That thought made me smile to myself after a very long time.