Flummox

I'm the most stress-obsessed person I know. Actually, I lied. I'm not even close to Roli Vajpeyi and I'm sure many other people in between. Now that I think of it, I'm not a stressed person at all- but I do take a lot of chaap. I take a ton of chaap in life. Chaap is the word.

Today, I lived through what was one of the scariest incidents of my life. It's been pretty strange. lately. Moreover, I've been feeling like a strange person. I don't remember things or what I was doing while I was doing something. I don't feel like I'm reading chapter for class, for example-- I just remember that I've read it--do you know what I mean?

In the event that that is even half clear, read on.

I was just cleaning my room up and settling things, after which I went down to put in my clothes in the washer-I came up, sat around with some people in the lounge who were studying and then came back to my room to continue cleaning up. There was no big deal and I was pretty relaxed since I had just made a Drug Mart trip and gotten myself a bunch of energy that would last me through the next few nights. I was feeling pretty good, actually. My room was clean, you see- life was good, again. I needed the time so I started looking for my phone.

Flummox.

I checked the drawers and the cabinet. I looked under the bed and inside the pillow cases. I could feel this panic creep into my body and suddenly gush into my throat and got stuck there for the next 30 minutes. I could feel it go left and right and seep into my ears and pull them apart but it didn't touch my face(I felt pretty strange about that). I suddenly found myself throwing the sheets on the floor and digging through the folded clothes in all my cupboards. I checked in the packets and behind the blinds- I couldn't find it anywhere. A person in my head was pointing and laughing at me-- shouting and screaming saying I put it in the washer with my clothes. I was actually convinced that I had done that, even though I don't remember if I did have it on me while I was downstairs. I couldn't even remember taking the clothes out of the laundry bag and putting it into the washer. All I remembered was that I spilled a little bit of detergent(because I saw blue detergent on the floor) and there were a pair of dark blue jeans. I could feel myself going mad as I ran up and down the laundry room hoping to open that fucking locked door of the washer. It was the most painful 11 minutes of my life. As soon as the load was done, I rummaged through it and it wasn't there. I, then, was sure that the washer ate it up- something strange must have happened and the washer must have become a vacuum cleaner, I told myself(very seriously). There wasn't anything I could do about going mad. I ran back upstairs and checked the lounge with this ugly panic making me pale. I was screaming in my head - "calm down". But then that chaap("who said it cant become a vaccum cleaner?", I shouted around the hall) inside just kept pointing and laughing and it drove me nuts. I went to my room and started shelving my books and un-shelving and shelving again.

I must have called it a million times but it was probably on silent even if it was around. Not that I remembered.
I could feel this pumping of blood thing just under tonsils, I'm telling you. I

I was thinking of Ladin( a mad man on the streets of Calcutta) for a good 5 minutes and I emptied the trash can while I was at it. Ladin, at the time, seemed less interesting and not scary, at all. I could feel myself sinking and my head just spinning into a little lonely.

I sat on the floor and called Security to report a theft. It sat there in my half-packed suitcase, starring at me as though nothing ever happened. I looked around the room, bursting into tears, knowing that I was mad.




(This was a little bit of nausea just coming out)