The Patient Sikh: Part Twenty-One--Love Sick

This an excerpt from a novel in progress and a work of fiction.

I’m just this girl. I don’t know if I would even call myself a woman. I’m still young. I wonder if my aura is any good. I wonder what it looks like. That thing that is kind of like my soul, that probably has a color. What does my soul look like?

I wonder sometimes if Sonny even has a soul. What does it mean to have a soul, I wonder. I mean he doesn’t even care about me, but maybe he’s in love with his girlfriend. But then why did he make out with me?

Questions. He doesn’t know me, really know me. And maybe I don’t know him. Then what is it that I love? Is it really him or this idea I have about him? What is the difference between him and my idea of him anyways?

I’m sitting outside on campus, watching the leaves do their final descent on to the ground. There are very burnt red leaves, some orange, and some more yellow. I want to jump in a pile of leaves. I remember how that felt as a child. I remember fun. When is the last time I had fun?

I’m waiting for my Biology class to start. I’ve come early and now I’m sipping on hot chocolate. I can’t have coffee, the caffeine makes me nervous. Now that I’m sitting here with nothing to do, I wonder how much time does my mind actually devote to thinking about Sonny? I mean it is outrageous, I wake up thinking about him, I go to sleep thinking about him. It’s like he put some kind of spell on me.

Is this normal? If I used the amount of time I think about Sonny is some constructive way, I could solve some of the world’s problems by now. I could invent something. Why am I wasting my life away?

I go into my Biology class and my T.A. talks about how everything that humans do is for reproducing. That even getting a job, getting a haircut, everything single thing we do is so we can eventually reproduce. They call this social biology or something.

I don’t feel like I’m getting a job so I can reproduce. I don’t think I’m doing anything so I can reproduce. But maybe I’m doing it without thinking about it, without even knowing it. Is that the reason I put lipstick on this morning and took a shower?

But does it explain why I went to college? I mean I would eventually, one day, like to reproduce with Sonny. But am I in college for that reason? That seems ridiculous. But on the other hand, why am I doing what I’m doing. What’s the point of it all anyways?

I like to think there is a higher purpose to all this crap we are doing in life. So as I am contemplating the meaning of life, I walk into my philosophy class. I get back my paper where I tried to prove that god exists. Apparently in philosophy it is very difficult to logically prove that god exists. I got a B on the paper and I get why, maybe not all of my points were completely logical.

But deep inside I know it’s not logical to believe in god. In my religion, Sikhism, you are supposed to remember god all the time. But all I can think about is Sonny. I literally don’t have the space in my head to add god in. And what if I did think of god? What difference would that make?

It’s not like god is going to get me any closer to Sonny. I’m in the graduate library now. It has huge vaulted ceilings and is very beautiful. I’m sitting here reading a book on how animals are being tortured so we can eat them. I knew there was a reason I became a vegetarian. It’s evil the way we keep these animals and torture them.

I initially stopped eating meat because I thought it was bad karma. I thought it was doing a bad deed and that I would have to pay for that bad deed. Well it turns out I was right, it is not just killing the animals that is bad, but the way in which we raise them. I want to vomit as I read this book from my biology class.

Sonny is not a vegetarian, will it be weird if we have to go out to dinner? Why do I think about everything in terms of Sonny? It gets exhausting, and it’s annoying. I know, I know, I’m obsessed. But come on, haven’t you ever been in love?

But the question is, is this love? What is love? Is it that fluttery feeling I have in my heart? I feel like I would know love when I encounter it. Wouldn’t I? Or is this just infatuation? What is the difference anyways? Does it even matter?

If this is love, screw love. It’s turning me into a crazy lady, and I was already on the edge to begin with. It hurts too. Why isn’t he calling me? Am I supposed to call him? Why does everyone say no? Is it just because I’m the girl? That sounds sexist to me.

I think this as I walk into my Women’s Studies class. We just read a phenomenal book called The Beauty Myth. It is about how the beauty industry has made women believe that our worth is based on the way that we look. I have to say I am a victim of that. I sometimes think I’m just not pretty enough for Sonny.

Seriously. I mean I don’t want him to just like me for my looks, but I want him to like my looks. His girlfriend is prettier and skinnier than me. Screw her. I have this feeling I’m smarter than her, but does that even matter to him?

And I wonder, am I even sexy? I don’t even know how to be sexy. I’m definitely not ready to have sex. I’m one of those virgins who wants to wait until I get married to do that. I wonder if Sonny is having sex with his girlfriend?

Oh god! Kill me now!

nina

If you would like to read the beginning of this novel in progress, The Patient Sikh, visit the following links in chronological order:

The Patient Sikh: Part One

The Patient Sikh: Part Two–The Wonder Years

The Patient Sikh: Part Three–Sonny

The Patient Sikh: Part Four–Song Lyrics

The Patient Sikh: Part Five–Your Song

The Patient Sikh: Part Six–Coffee Talk

The Patient Sikh: Part Seven--Chocolate Covered Love

The Patient Sikh: Part Eight--Kiss And Tell

The Patient Sikh: Part Nine--Street Chess