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[October 13, 2016]
I saw someone today who I'm fairly certain I've met before.

I remember vaguely because the first time I saw him, I wrote about him in another journal and titled the entry, "Liar, liar, and denim jeans." It was written on the 6th of March, 2016, so I was still with my No'C back then. I'd like to share that entry here so that I can make reference to it.

Do be mindful that this entry is from over a year and a half ago.



Liar, liar, and denim jeans.

March 6th, Alberta Choralfest 2015.

Following our less than satisfying performances, I went to Chinook with Dominic, Gabriel, and my dearest. The original plan was to stop by Chinook Mall avec mon amour in order to buy a charger cable for my iPod to replace the one Xấu Xí chewed through. The two of us would then head to my house where I'd show him around. Nothing would happen, though, because my biological clock is in check this month. However, as with most things, times changed. I ended up going to Chinook Mall with my dearest and his two friends. I did buy what I needed. I wanted to write this entry because of what happened after this. My dearest and his friends headed home on an opposite-bound train. I was waiting for the bus. I suddenly realized my pockets had a lot of crap in it, so I went to the communal garbage bin to dispose of useless pocket items. The pocket that I was neglecting at the time started to buzz and my first thought in response to this was, "Wait. My phone's dead." It was then I realized I had my dearest's phone. He called me from the phone of Dom or Gab, but I'm guessing Gab.

As I was waiting for them to return to Chinook Station, I decided to tip a busker that was playing nearby. My dearest came and retrieved his phone and then left with his crew. I had around four dollars in coins in my hands. I originally planned to give a toonie to the busker, but my thoughts wavered when I saw a young adult holding up a sign that read, "BROKE & HUNGRY." That's when I hunted for more coins. I thought that this broke youngster was in more need than the busker, whom I see relatively regularly. As I was still undecided, I paced back and forth between those two. I was about to give the coins to the youngster, but another man approached him. They had a long conversation. While pacing, when they were within hearing range, I accidentally heard, "Yeah, this sign has made me over a thousand dollars." Disgusted, I gave my coins to the busker. How selfish to profit off of the goodwill of strangers. Shame on you, you non-broke lying piece of guilty rot.



So, Mr. Denim Jeans, we meet again and it appears we're both in university now. You've abandoned your liar of a sign, but you kept your denim jeans.

Do you remember me? I was probably wearing the same jacket, carrying a similar bunny bag, wearing the same cheery colour of black. My hair wasn't dyed back then and it was just a smidgen shorter than it is now and I wasn't under active supervision from the Shadow that day.

Among other things, I'm older now. You're older, too. Isn't it funny how vulnerable we all are to the passage of time? But anyhow, we haven't changed all that much.

"Excuse me," you said at the train station today. Today, you were at the university train station. Back then, you were at the train station nearest to my house. Do you think, perhaps, we've passed each other multiple times without knowing? It's hard to recognize strangers unless they do the only thing you know them to do... and you exploit altruism for monetary gain. "Do you have two dollars to spare?"

Ah, so you stand by a bus ticket machine as a part of an act. You look like you need money for a bus ticket, but a ticket is no longer a toonie, and nobody stands by the bus ticket machine for five hours.

Oh what's that? Am I wrong? Did you take a break between the two times I saw you today? Ah, yes, I met you around lunch time and again when heading home. Do you know you saw me twice today?

The second time I saw you, I complied. I knew you didn't really need a toonie for transit fare. I knew you were collecting donations from an array of innocent passersby. I knew it was all a ruse, but I complied.

Why? Because you said, "it would make my day, my life!"

I replied, "That's cheap" as in it was a cheap price to make someone's life, but now I'm interpreting my words otherwise.

So, I gave you two dollars because you said it would make your life.

You lied. Surely, that was a lie. That was a lie, right? You probably didn't mean much by it, but

*sighs*

I wanted it to have been the truth. Y'see, Mr. Denim Jeans, I don't like you very much. You don't live a very honest life. Granted, neither do I, probably, but this isn't about my life. It's about you, another soul.

And surely, you must have your own struggles. I mean, why else would you lie to receive the alms of strangers? It's been over a year and a half, Mr. Denim Jeans.

I've been stalked by the Shadow for years now. Perhaps you've been begging for years now. We're both struggling, just like everyone else. Me, however, I may as well be doomed. I may as well be dead. Things might never get better enough for me. There may not be any redemption.

And maybe the same applies to you. Will you beg your whole life? Perhaps you will, but at least, at the very least, you have those two dollars I gave you today.

Perhaps, in some alternate universe, those two dollars actually do make your life. Perhaps in yet another alternate universe, giving you those two dollars make my life. In this universe, who even knows if those two dollars even matter. I am two dollars poorer and you are two dollars richer. That's all that is certain.

Make the most of those two dollars, Mr. Denim Jeans, and be happy.



Today's lyric excerpt:
And all the days, they were longer
And the drinks, they were stronger
The words, we sang wrong
But the songs were remembered
And time just passed

Disclaimer: There definitely exists the chance that Mr. Denim Jeans from both my experiences were in fact two different and unrelated people. After all, my memory isn't the most reliable anyway, but, this was liberating. Even if it's just pretend, the experience of running into the same stranger more than once and staying strangers is, well, it's nice. To meet someone I don't have to remember and inevitably forget them in due time is much easier than meeting someone, getting to know them, and then inevitably forgetting them in due time.

But, in the slim chance that Mr. Denim Jeans was the same person, hm… That's pretty good. yum_puddi