07.08.2002 | 11:09 p.m.
my friends don't know me. Episode 1: "How many Davids are there?"

Today I realised that the friends I've known longest are the ones who know me least. While this might sound trivial, they don't know anything about the things I love. I can wager 1,00,000 bucks not a single one knows my favourite books or favourite movies or my favourite bands. They don't even know that technically,Umar was my first kiss. Little things matter. Because eventually they're the foundation stones on which the bigger things are built, acceptance acting as the cement. And no,they don't have an inkling about my serious problems either. Not a single one of them know I had (have?) an eating disorder or that I was severely depressed or that I get panic attacks.

Kanika came over for lunch today. We sat on the sweaty leather couches and talked. "I want to watch Mulholland Drive." she said. I said I had mixed feelings about David Lynch and she said she loved him.

"Seven was....so good....Damn."

"Uh..that was David Fincher actually..." I looked away, almost embarassed to be correcting her. It embarasses me to know what I know. I'm always made to feel that way, ever since we were little. I was always a geek, albeit a funny one.

"Oh. David Lynch did Fight Club then?"

"No. That was Fincher too. Lynch did Blue Velvet, Eraserhead..."

"Uhh...Arnold Schwarrz...?"

"NO NO NO NO!" I cut her off before she could say his name. Thankfully,because I can't spell the rest anyway.

(To be continued)

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