Thinking of M

What if you could create a whole person out of your imagination? 

When I first invented M, it was more to fit into a world of people who have so many friends. Who actively seek out other humans and seem to get along quite well and share secrets and experinces which makes their friendships strong and after the passing of an acceptable period of time, come to become quite adept at speaking for each other. If I need to explain why the concept baffles me, then perhaps you should scroll away. But I deviate, so more of that later. 

'M' was, in part, my male alter ego. In equal parts, a friend, philosopher and guide. He was patient, kind, wise and dependable. He was a lanky fellow with a curly mop of dark hair that I would like to ruffle when I felt fiesty. He had a smile that reached his eyes, no dimples but a goofy giggle that would force me to break into peals of laughter. He seemed to appear magically at my side, in retrospect. He would be my sarcastic voice of reason as he pointed at my obvious silliness, like the obvious place I left my house keys or used dinner plates by the bed when I woke up to foul smell of rotting curry. 

Those weren't good years, I spent most of my time alone in a matchbox apartment with a kitchen and attached washroom. I relied heavily on movies and video content on the rented (and never returned) TV set. I had no one. M didn't appear like an apparition out of thin air. He came in retrospect, from my inherent inability to admit that I went through almost a decade without care or love or any sense of human belongingness... reminded every day that I wasn't invited for this stint on the planet but for some reason (frigging larger picture) I had to remain. The obvious question is why my subconscious would need to create M when I could, as so many would say, 'socialize'. 'Just go out and meet new people!' The inherent notion that I am lazy or stupid or unintelligent to not have tried the most obvious, takes me back to the deviation I wanted to steer clear of. Would you fuck off already? 

M was born of a dark place in my head, lovingly garnished with elements of my heart. If I was born a man... 

The first time M appeared I was posting some random wordly wisdom that my brain threw at me. Something along the lines of "Sometimes you need to take off your glasses to see how much you can actually see". It felt fucking brilliant to my 20-something mind but was instantly overshadowed by my bossy self-doubt. Was I trying to preach? How silly and stupid of me! So my rational right brain nerve cells jumped in to 'solve' the problem. I could simply attribute the wisdom to a mysterious 'friend' and since no one really cares about me, it would remain 'clean'. And that is how M appeared on my timeline and my life for the first time. 

Why M? Hmm. No reason really, I think it's just that not taking names or just using initials to embody mystery (like so many of my favourite authors) made some kind of sense. It wasn't rocket science, sorry. Just a blob of fertile imagination, creative solutionism and boredom. Ah! Boredom. We should have been better friends. Perhaps, we were! 

Boredom had quite a large role to play in the sustenance of M in my life. Going back to my inner conflict reflected in para 1, I don't understand 'suffering' other people for the sake of companionship. Sorry, its not like the world is underpopulated and I NEED to put up with a variety of eccentricities and insecurities and the stupidity (Dear God, the stupidity!) to pass the time. I do like to engage with people, all kinds of them, but when I am up to it. Not when they crowd me and push their way into my beloved solitary monologues.  

When I think back, I can see myself curled up with a book against M on my queen-sized bed. M is focussing on the almost millionth rerun of Tom and Jerry cartoons and I'm attempting my best impersonation of 'cute and intellectual' young woman. Like Harry said while trying to create his patronus, "It is not really a memory or maybe it is. It is the happiest one I've got." 

 Thanks M for these memories.

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