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The more I speak to him, the more I know about me. I think he is somebody who I would probably not pay attention to in real life. Not because there is anything wrong with him but because I am a classist, elitist person. I wish I were not and maybe I'll learn not to be.

I had these probability problem sums when I was in class 11. There were green balls and red balls and blue balls and you estimated the chances of getting either of them. It's a similar kind of mixed bag and I look curiously at what comes out - sometimes its somebody rough around the edges, sometimes it's somebody who is attached to his family, sometimes sweet, hyper-optimistic, sometimes intimidated, hard-working, (too) helpful, confident, childish.. there's everything but insincerity. It's hard to reconcile all of this. All together and with an actual human being. Probably because it's all so faceless. It's also easier though. I can hide and feel there will be zero repercussions to anything. I wonder if we all are as transparent to each other and perhaps that I'm in the habit of making everything more than it is.

I called him the other day. I broke the balance, this delicate equilibrium. I keep saying I don't know why I did that, to myself. I knew why I did that, even before I calmed down. Yet I keep repeating I didn't. Maybe because so many things become clearer once you don't think about them too much. I'm waiting for a second round of epiphanies. I was curious and then I became impulsive. In my knowledge, impulsive people often find unhappiness. I am careful to not be unhappy. Sally Rooney is happening to me.

I've said this before too, but explaining your life to someone who has no context has brought me so much perspective. I was telling him about how I was a Permanently Scared Person and how I don't feel like that anymore. The Permanently Scared Person started feeling like history, a part of me that is stowed away. Perhaps moving might bring her out again. Currently, she is outside of me. I've never thought of growing in those terms. This got reinforced I think when he seemed to not understand how someone like me who rolled off a fisherman's narrow boat all alone could be scared and that perhaps I was just underestimating myself. I could give myself the closure that I've progressed, because I could honestly tell him that no, this same person some time ago would not in fact have been able to do it. I've made myself into that (of course with the help of a lot of money).

When I called, it did what I knew it would and had thought about. I never think about it actively, always in the back of my head. Then it became difficult to escape my own decision. In that, it was embarrassing. Since I can't sit with embarrassment easily, I joked my way through it. It now continues to grow.

I was talking to F also about how I judge myself for all of this before anyone else can, how my favourite thing to tell myself is what even is the point but how I continue to do it anyway. After all, like this whole write-up, this is more about me than anything else. He's an absolutely great person, in his own right. Yet I also know I am going to go nowhere with this, I know myself. It's not enough but it's nice. How I discover what I like, what I am wary of and downright scared of, what makes me comfortable and what makes me feel shame. So on and on it goes. Till it's still nice.

That's why I never call some people by their names. They're important in that they teach me a lot. But why make it more real? Why give a history and a story when it's all going to disappear and nothing will remain? What is the point?