You know Me?

    You have no idea who really is Louisa. You want to know. Well, let us see... what kind of classic author does her mother have in mind at her birth? What is hiding inside Louisa’s closet? Are dogs really too loyal and cats too hairy? Is college a steeping stone to a bright future or a torture to help you get a job in a factory? Who is perfect Paul? Who is Junior Inspector? Who or what are the loco diestro? Why do fools fall in love? Who is the towns’ teenage drama queen? How can anyone who is fighting a secret battle in a secret war zone still have secret friends? And is life all about pretensions?

Chapter One

You know me.

        You have no idea who I really am.

        Just for example, you think I am right here at my room enjoying reading an anatomy textbook. Wrong. I am not in my room. I am not enjoying reading an anatomy textbook either. Even if I were in my room, I would not be reading an anatomy textbook and enjoying it, so you would still be wrong. Moreover, it is not really my room. It’s somebody else room for that matter because I’m just boarding the little space which I call by default a room.

        Who would enjoy reading an anatomy textbook anyway? Maybe Beeves but definitely not me. His name is not Beeves by the way, he is Eman, and we just call him Beeves because he has some big incisor teeth that get all our attention. He also has a big brain but we didn’t call him Beeves because of his brain. It’s merely because of his teeth.

        Puzzled? Deal with it.

        You have no idea who I am. You don’t know the first thing about me. You don’t know where I’m writing this from. You don’t even know what I look like.

        Long black hair? Wire-rimmed glasses over black small eyes? Guess again. I’m more than just that. I know you couldn’t even guess. Because you couldn’t even remember how I look. When was the last time you had a real close-up look at me. You couldn’t remember? Well let me remind you. It was just two years ago when I left our house with a hundred bucks in my pocket and a broken heart. Guess it didn’t startle you. And I don’t know what will startle you. I run out of ideas.

        Why in the world will I like to startle you? Well maybe because I had this ambition of becoming a clown and I would like to surprise everyone. But hardly, I wouldn’t wear a plastic mask even if the President will come to his knees and beg. I don’t need that anymore. I have this hard time using my personality mask myself to trouble myself with another unmanageable masquerade. So I wouldn’t like to be a clown after all.

        So what do I really want to do with my life if I don’t like to be a clown? Maybe it’s better off if I enrolled fighting fires and danger. Some people say it suits me well because I’m bold and full of energy. I don’t go on lying around the house, so lazy couldn’t even do the dishes in the stinking sink. Some people say I don’t even know how to read. I hate reading I guess, how much more writing boring stories such as these. So why am I writing a tiresome story to you. I guess some people live out their childish dreams and move on. And I’ve moved on quite well. I lost my interest in works of energy and tried to shift in reading and writing. And I don’t hate doing it after all but I still think it’s ridiculous. Some warp zone grabs my zest and left me with no life so I guess the plates in the sink should have to wait.

        Some people say I’m a perfect little girl who lives by the dreams of you. Well for one thing I’m not perfect because I say a lot of dumb things and act dumb. I’m not little either. I’m not even petite. But I guess it’s true that I live by your standards and weaving my future on your unfinished business. I’m working on your dreams and you don’t even notice my tears and blood in achieving all these foolishness.

        You think I’m happy? Huh!

        You think I enjoy studying dead dogs? Huh!

        You think I have good friends around me? Huh!

        You think my life is wonderful? Huh, huh!

        Of all the things, I hate pretending so I wouldn’t pretend that I’m happy or I’m wonderful. But can you see it? How can you with both eyes closed?

        In the middle of the morning (it’s two o’clock in the morning by the way), you couldn’t even feel how much I’m suffering this hell of ambition of yours. And I’m doing this for my future? How can something you hate help you ascend in the near future. It really made no sense to my fickle little head which is not actually little.

        What am I trying to say? Am I just being truthful or being dumb as you always make me feel. Why should I care? Do I care? I have no idea.

        You think you know me? So do you know that I love attending Physiology because of my unmarried professor? I don’t want to marry him because he is unmarried. He has a girlfriend and professors who have girlfriends don’t holler around marrying their students. I call him doctor Blink Blank. I don’t call him doctor Blink Blank because he is unmarried, I call him doctor Blink Blank because he stares at you with his big tantalizing eyes without blinking and his face blank. So that’s why I call him doctor Blink Blank. You would wonder why I call him doctor. He is a real doctor. I’m studying dead dogs with a help of a dog doctor.

        You know what I mean.

        You think I’m still lying around the room and enjoying reading an anatomy textbook? Wrong. I told you the answer to that same question. You didn’t hear me, I guess. You are deaf. Deaf to every pain and grief I had always been telling you for a very long time.

        So how come you tell everybody you know me. Maybe at some point of our lives you thought you already knew me. But that remains hidden in my closet. Unless you had the nerve to open that dark, hideous closet of mine, you wouldn’t know me.

        I’m not threatening you.

        I have no such power.

        But you have no such power on me either.

        And I won’t let you ruin my life completely.