The Importance Of Being A Voyeur

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If I were to visit a psychiatrist with the mental state I am in, he might accuse me of being a voyeur, but believe me I don’t take pleasure in peeking into other people’s lives so I am not a voyeur. I just do it because I am bored and pretty much have nothing else to do. The story I am going to unfold took place over a year ago. Those were desperate times for me. I was sick and tired of being a loner back then and I was looking for a relationship of my standards, and quite frankly I had set myself very high standards.
I love entering other’s lives, nudging their doors open in a quiet, noiseless way, being their uninvited, invisible guest. It really puts me on edge. Glancing at people through the peep holes of their social networks (especially Facebook) seeing their lives, their moments of happiness, their times of tragedies, making assessment of those and comparing them to the data of my own life tantalises me. It entices and invites me. It is my favorite and only pastime in a room radiating absolute boredom and dullness diffusing from every corner.
It was a chilly winter evening when it happened. I was preparing tea in the kitchen when I heard that irresistible sound of a Facebook notification. It was from a group called “WORD FIGHTER”— those kinds of groups where rookies with a very limited sense of rhymes and poetry judge themselves as poets and act as though they are Keats or Wordsworth. On a normal evening, I wouldn’t have dared to enter that group, but it was the dullest evening of my life so I checked it out anyway. There was a crappy poem from my friend Angela moaning about how her boyfriend dumped her and how love hurts so no one should ever fall in love and other depressing rubbish; I was just about to exit from ...

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...hat?? I was confused. I then checked Punky Prakash II’s Facebook profile. He had recently changed his relationship status to ‘married’ and had posted a status update in his trademark sick style: “lOp U foRevA mY h0neY aLoNa “ Sweet, beautiful, carefree Alonika had now changed to Punky Prakash II’s honey Alona. What a radical change, I thought
There I was staring at the cyber’s 256 ram, 40 gb computer, which surely more than 10 years old, and which informed me that my nemesis had taken my star-crossed love away, probably forever. I was feeling sad and grumpy and low and was about to leave. Then something caught my eye. Some girl named Aashiyana Adhikari had commented on Punky’s wall: “So sweet couple, stay blessed forever”. Wow, Aashiyana, what a name, her parents must be Arabic, I thought. I looked at her profile picture, Is it Taylor Swift? I love Taylor Swift.

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