Thursday, February 16, 2012
A Rose for a Thought
Today I asked my workmate LJ if I could have the rose that someone she probably didn't like gave her on Valentines. I feel a strong attachment to that blooming huge rose and those white rosebuds. Even if they aren't mine, I'll make sure they live until they outgrow their beauty. I love flowers. If I had a garden, I would spend whole day planting.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Wardrobe Malfunction
My portable closet has been falling on me for a week. I told it to wait until I get my next paycheck, but it really collapsed for real this morning. I sneaked in looking for used closets yesterday while working but found they were way beyond my wage capacity.
I fought myself against asking Mom for money, but I don't really have much choice. Moreover, it's Valentines and I need to do something (like shopping for another portable closet) to distract myself from feeling a little lonely seeing all those happy couples.
Someone always manages to give me flowers on Valentines, but I won't raise my hopes today. I'll probably buy junkfood later and enjoy the Leverkusen-Barcelona game on YouTube.
I meant what I said that I'm not bitter today, that I am happy despite the things that are missing in my life. But when everything reminds you of that deficiency, I guess it's normal to feel a tad bit sad. All singletons earned that right, just like couples can bury themselves into each other's neck today without fear of being judged.
Oh well, I guess happy Valentines then.
I fought myself against asking Mom for money, but I don't really have much choice. Moreover, it's Valentines and I need to do something (like shopping for another portable closet) to distract myself from feeling a little lonely seeing all those happy couples.
Someone always manages to give me flowers on Valentines, but I won't raise my hopes today. I'll probably buy junkfood later and enjoy the Leverkusen-Barcelona game on YouTube.
I meant what I said that I'm not bitter today, that I am happy despite the things that are missing in my life. But when everything reminds you of that deficiency, I guess it's normal to feel a tad bit sad. All singletons earned that right, just like couples can bury themselves into each other's neck today without fear of being judged.
Oh well, I guess happy Valentines then.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Drop a Heart
I guess I'm wont to admit that I expected this year's Valentines to see some kind of improvement. If going on five unplanned awkward dates that end up in me trying desperately to convince myself not to read too much into it counts as an improvement, then I guess I must have done something right. Or maybe not.
My girl friends and I watched Something Borrowed yesterday, and I hated myself for clinging to that hope that I might be reading him right after all, that somehow at some point, he might have felt the same way for me. I am just so tired of waiting and hoping and pathetically expecting more from this complicated thing between us and being disappointed every time.
I hate that I feel happy when people mistake us for a couple. I hate it even more when he becomes all defensive and immediately corrects them with "We're just friends." It sucks to be "just his friend." It's fucking heartbreaking.
But I have learned to be absolutely casual around him, to act unbelievably platonic and loud when we talk because I know somehow that the silence will sound haunting, and it will create some sort of awkward distance between us.
In short, I will spend this Valentines as I always do—alone with some plausible excuse to ward off people, especially myself, from feeling sorry for me. But underneath those layers of being too fucking smart, being happy, being okay with being single, being afraid of relationships, being "just" a friend—I am vulnerable like all other girls really are. I want to be able to blush and be disgustingly sweet in public places. Because the truth is I don't really hate seeing couples being couples on Valentines. I don't hate seeing girls bringing bouquets and chocolate boxes. In fact, I revel in those sights. I love the gooey looks and the soft kisses and the gentle touching of hands.
Though it makes me want to have someone to call special even more, it also reminds me that someday, somehow, it will be my turn to have something as special as the reason why Valentines, and all other things in a philosophical perspective, exists.
My girl friends and I watched Something Borrowed yesterday, and I hated myself for clinging to that hope that I might be reading him right after all, that somehow at some point, he might have felt the same way for me. I am just so tired of waiting and hoping and pathetically expecting more from this complicated thing between us and being disappointed every time.
I hate that I feel happy when people mistake us for a couple. I hate it even more when he becomes all defensive and immediately corrects them with "We're just friends." It sucks to be "just his friend." It's fucking heartbreaking.
But I have learned to be absolutely casual around him, to act unbelievably platonic and loud when we talk because I know somehow that the silence will sound haunting, and it will create some sort of awkward distance between us.
In short, I will spend this Valentines as I always do—alone with some plausible excuse to ward off people, especially myself, from feeling sorry for me. But underneath those layers of being too fucking smart, being happy, being okay with being single, being afraid of relationships, being "just" a friend—I am vulnerable like all other girls really are. I want to be able to blush and be disgustingly sweet in public places. Because the truth is I don't really hate seeing couples being couples on Valentines. I don't hate seeing girls bringing bouquets and chocolate boxes. In fact, I revel in those sights. I love the gooey looks and the soft kisses and the gentle touching of hands.
Though it makes me want to have someone to call special even more, it also reminds me that someday, somehow, it will be my turn to have something as special as the reason why Valentines, and all other things in a philosophical perspective, exists.
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