Random Writing

More than a little...

It was the damned book's fault, I'd curse it to hell and back if I could. I'd turn back time and have oblivion swallow me whole if I could, but I couldn't.

Marvels and Wonder: A Guide to the Supernatural by Alistar Bramble. 

That's what started this mess, I now find myself in. I'd been reading this mock encyclopedia about all things supernatural for about a month now. It was a fun, in-depth look into the history and foundations surrounding paranormal activity, myths, and legends. What I wasn't expecting was the section dedicated to pseudoscience. That hooked me about a week ago. For days, I've been reading about how theories regarding telekinesis, empaths, and precognition came to be. Just this morning, I began the section about the history of telepathy. 

11 am, English Lit with Mr. Barnes is always just a bit slow. I mean, I can't blame the guy. Mr. Barnes must be pushing almost 90 by now, still a tenured professor teaching classic literature to a room of 200+ college students. He always insisted we call him Mr.Barnes, though. Apparently, the professor title wasn't all that appealing to hear from a 20-something.

 Anyway, we always have a 15-minute break in the middle of our 3-hour lecture, and while most students took the time to talk to their friends in the course, I dove back into Marvels and Wonder. 

"Many believe that telepaths spend time honing their abilities rather than having an innate ability to control them outright, however, all theories agree that a particularly strong thought can penetrate even the strongest mental barrier a telepath puts up, almost like a static shock. "

I looked up from my book and around at my classmates. Post midterm, there were only a little over 150 students left who hadn't dropped the class yet. I wonder... 

Before I could talk myself out of the ridiculous notion that telepathes aren't real, I shouted: "TOLKIEN WAS DEFINITELY A BUTT FUCKER" in my loudest head voice. 

In that same moment, David Chan snorted a few seats away from me, and I just about died in my seat. 

I first met David in our freshman seminar, both of us being archeology majors, and our department being very small meant we often ran into each other. 

After a while, I grew to admire him. He was always so polite and kind, he had a gorgeous smile with a dimple on his right cheek. He could make virtually anyone laugh, and in large groups, he had this way of inviting everyone in. It also helped that he was tall and super attractive. Being half Filipino and half Japanese, David was all warm-toned skin, dark eyes, and silky hair that he wore half up out of the way of his wireframe glasses. He mentioned once during a department mixer that he's been doing Jujitsu since he was 12, and that dedication is reflected in his physique. He's not physically imposing per se, but every once in a while, a glimpse of his strength peaks out. It's in the muscles in his hands and forearms when he helps carry boxes of equipment in and out of our department, and in the slope of his shoulders when he wears this one particular cut of V-neck button-ups. It's safe to say that over time, David became a frequent subject of several recurring daydreams and fantasies. 

And that brings us to now, my gut-wrenching horror, shame, and sheer embarrassment.

"That had to be a fluke... right?  There's no way that David is a mind reader; it was just a coincidence. Yeah. He's a friendly guy; he was probably talking to someone, and they cracked a joke. Yeah. That's all. He was probably laughing at a classmate's joke, and I'm way overthinking this, and I should just chill out now. Relax, relax, deep breath. " 

I take a deep breath and resettle myself as Mr. Barnes returns to the center of the lecture hall.

"Everything is fine. Maybe we should take a break from this book, it has us worked up over nothing. Mind readers aren't real. Our thoughts are ours alone. David has no idea about the things we think about, especially the things we've thought about him. Everything is cool."