Dancing on your grave.

It's been a while, but I remembered once, a million days ago, when counterstrike was still a novelty and cybercafes were scarce, I learnt one of the most important lessons that I have ever learnt in my life.

It so happened back then that there was only one, solitary cybercafe near my school, the only one with counterstrike capable hardware and every schoolboy oozing with testosterone wanted to be one of the lucky players in one out of the only 8 computers there. Each computer was partitioned by one of those office partitions, and rather than one design or edition of the PC, it was more of a junkyard of various old second hand PC's linked together by one wire.

If you wanted to be one of those lucky 8, you had to call in advance, make a booking, and if you didn't, you had to wait in line. I remembered they had this whiteboard up front where the waiting list stretched for columns, and there were lines of boys just looking at other people playing for hours while waiting their turn.

Of course, being a young gamer myself I was not spared from this fad. And it so happened that on one afternoon, I was one of those who wrote their names on this whiteboard, waiting impatiently and eagerly with that tingle in my spine, just aching to get my hands on the mouse and hear the roar of machineguns.

I remembered watching as it took forever to get each name crossed out and see myself slowly rising to the top. And finally, after being the next in line, I watched, focused, as one guy packed his bags, and got ready to leave.

My eyes must have been shining with enthusiasm, which proved to be short lived once I saw the guy talk to his friend, and agreed to let him take his place. He went up to the cashier, paid his time, and then walked out. Of course, I was called next in line, and as I pointed out that there was someone else in my seat, the cashier went to talk to the guy. The conversation of course, is not exact, but I remembered the gist of it.

"Excuse me, but there's a waiting list here. You have to put your name on the waiting list."
"Oh, no, my friend let me sit here."
"I'm sorry, but it's his turn now."
"No no, my friend let me sit here.'
"Well, if this guy agrees to it, then you can stay, but if he says no then you'll have to leave."

It was at this point that the both of them looked at me, expecting an answer. I know, I should've said 'fuck off' or told him to get out, but I remembered how gangsters were prevalent in my school, and this guy looked pretty dodgy. Perhaps out of fear, or meekness, or simply exemplifying my father of always letting things go, for whatever reason, I said;

"It's okaylah, I'll let you have it."

Having said that the cashier walked off, and this guy, exhibiting his alpha maleness spat back, "You didn't let me have it, it was mine."

Reflecting back on this incident now, I realized that there are some things in life that you just have to take, some things in life that you just have to do in order to get what you want. I don't blame the guy now, although I have no doubt in my mind that if I could remember what he looks like and if I were to ever bump into him again, I wouldn't hesitate to screw him over, however way I can.

Today, I'd like to say that I am cold hearted and calculative, that I'd like to exact my revenge whenever I can, but at best I am merely non interventionist. A famous quote by Napoleon Bonaparte goes "Never interrupt an enemy while he is making a mistake," and this is a quote I carry religiously with me, perhaps added with a bit of malicious wishing.

Which is why sometimes, when you pay me the compliment of saying that I'm a nice guy, look out for the skeptical smirk or some other form of scoffing because while I can see why you would say that, you only say it because you don't know me. There are some people whose graves I would dance on, if only to celebrate their death, and I swear by everything I know to be true that I would do it.

And as for you, I tried, for the longest time, to give you the benefit of the doubt, but today I realized with a certainty that I've never liked you. We've had some good times, sure, but let me tell you now that if I should hear about your death, or your beloved, I shall try, perhaps just to evade curious questions from our common friends, to feign some form of grief at your passing. But honestly, I won't be surprised if I couldn't care less, or even be slightly happy inside with the thought 'good riddance' running through my mind.

As a matter of fact, right now, right at this moment, I actually have more sympathy for the guy who stole my wide screen tv last night.