She’s sunken in the ottoman in her friend’s living room, staring up in a daze. She has a lot to say. Of course she does, she always does. She has opinions about everything from fire ants to putting chipotle in green salads.
“What’s wrong with her?
- Nothing! Don’t be an idiot!”
When Nadia was younger, she tried to tell her mom that she thought buildings shouldn’t be over 5 stories high because neighbors would be strangers, and what’s the point of having a neighbor?! But her mom was late for work? She tried to run after her… but her mom was always late for something…
“What do you mean?! Look at her! She’s so…
- Don’t say it.”
All was fine with the world. Because Nadia read and drew and wrote. And she thought that that if she did all of that, then she would be able to hold her tongue… but boy was she mistaken. If anything her case grew worse! With all of the imagination she’s cultivated in her brain, words started spilling out like a serious case of chronic vomiting.
By the time she was 11, she went to a new school. She met new people. And she thought, oh so foolishly, that she could find someone who would understand her. Once she told this girl in class, that she thought about what would happen if firecrackers were put in a microwave. I mean obviously she knew it was a bad idea, but doesn’t it make you wonder nonetheless!?
Well, rumors travel fast in a small catholic school. And wouldn’t you know it, soon enough, Nadia started a continuous monologue for the remainder of her school experience.
“Maybe she had bad spicy food last night….
- Does she eat spicy food?”
When she was 13, Nadia got bored with writing and painting. She got bored with school and mothers. So she thought about music… what if musical notes can deliver your thoughts from their self-inflicted prison?! So she learnt how to play the violin. And the violin started to feel like a nice familiar friend who didn’t care if she thought about whether the sea was reflecting the colors in the sky or was it the sky reflecting the colors of the galaxies.
But the violin came with its own friend. A man. A man that made her believe that the only way she could stay friends with the violin, was if she would be friends with him.
She really wanted to stay friends with the violin.
“Diana, I really think we should take her to the hospital.”
When she was 15, she realized that she started to hate the violin. And she couldn’t understand why. And then she told her parents that she didn’t want to be friends with the violin and the man anymore. And her parents did nothing. Her parents didn’t ask. And the violin and the man were gone. But her thoughts festered.
“For what?! A bad case of the bafflement?!”