Wishing that I'll be The man that you'll touch and see I'll give my love that can't explain We will be running in the rain And I will hold your hand Hold my hand On the first few weeks when we started talking, we would talk through midnight and into the morning. We would fall asleep, not knowing how much time has passed. I know you're busy, I'm busy too. I hope you don't look at me differently. I've noticed some awkwardness lately. I'd hate to interpret it as you getting bored of me-- even as you reply with short, generic messages after I've possibly just peeled another layer of skin of my personality to you. I said I'll be your friend and I stand by that decision. So even with these feelings still lingering around, remember that I'll be here. Even if you don't ask for it. Even if you don't need me anymore. Even if I'm no longer the one you miss. I'm still holding onto the sleeve of your shirt. Give me some time to let go. I'll get over you, I promise. But that time is not now. It's past midnight again.
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I'm new to the dating scene. Wait, no. Scratch that. I'm yet to break into the dating scene. And as it goes with the inexperienced, I turn to the internet and to my just-as inexperienced friends when I feel like there could be, something. I turn to them when I feel a spark, of some sorts. (I'm not entirely sure, how that spark is supposed to feel either-- as I said, I am VERY much inexperienced.) (Thank you for the tips, Charisma on Command! You deserve a whole 'nother post altogether... Hmmm...) But just as I turned 20 this year, I was thinking that I could be ready. And also, when the opportunity arises, I won't sit around and wait for the other person to show interest first. Like any strong, independent woman of the 21st century, I will be unafraid in making a move. BUT I do have one condition, however, I need to know that they at least find me interesting too. I may sound gutsy, but I also don't wanna be stupid. (As a friend just told me the other week, unfortunately, brave actions and stupid actions are often synonymous.) And so obviously enough that I started talking about this specific topic, you guessed it, there is someone... This someone, I found him incredibly confusing at first. Although now, I'm fairly convinced that he doesn't reciprocate the same feelings and thus I feel ready to talk about it. Now that I think about it, however, it was probably the naivety from my part that assumed there could be something. But can you blame me? I was seeing stars, as they say in John Green-esque teenage romance books. Also, it felt nice for a while, the kind of attention I thought I was getting.
And even if you do blame me, well, I kinda blame me too. But oh well, the past is past. Onwards and upwards! So here's the situation, I "received" a rose from a stranger but it is both mine and not mine. It is, in it's own right, a Schrödinger situation. Valentine's Day, a day I admit I dreaded a bit but have prepared myself enough to go through. I had just entered the room wherein I were to take my last class of the day then, I notice a single pale, pink rose lying on my table. Its stalk was rather short, compared to the ones I've seen around campus. And, there's no note. My friend, who sat beside me, also had one lying on her desk but hers was red and had a different wrapping. Seeing hers, I immediately assumed that it might've been from one of our mutual friends-- the same exact friend who has already ruined the surprise by informing us the previous day that he was going to send us flowers, that which I refused and expressly told him that he could save his money by not sending me any. So, I went through class, not questioning it further. Besides, who else would send me a flower? For anything, there are a very limited number of people who knew both the timing and location of my classes. They were my block class, that guy friend, and possibly one of my orgs (though the schedule that i sent them didn't contain my classroom numbers but technically if one is crafty, they could cross-reference it to the schedule of my blockmate who is also a member of the same org). Then came dismissals and luckily enough, we ran into that guy friend in the halls. The first thing I asked him was why he sent me a flower despite me telling him that he didn't have to, and that anyways, I was grateful. That's when he looked at me, confused, and with a deadpan face, said, "I didn't send you any flowers because you asked me not to." At that point, another friend of mine, started "ooooh-ing" and pointed out the possibility of a secret admirer. I, on the other hand, was thoroughly confused and could not think of any other explanation for the situation other than that guy friend to be lying and was actually the one who sent the flower even though he insists that he didn't. And it was a few moments after that when he said this: "Maybe, the person from the previous class who sat in your seat left that. or maybe, the delivery for that flower for that person came when he/she wasn't there and so nobody was able to receive it." Like dude, my man, why do you have to hurt me this way? That statement over there methodically struck down and burnt my very daintily-numbered self-esteem to smithereens like a cartoon man holding an umbrella up during a rainstorm. That statement effectively pierced through the mental shield I very carefully prepared especially for Valentine's Day with the ease of a warm knife through butter. And with that, so it stands, the mystery of this pale, pink rose. I don't know who sent it, and neither do I know for whom. Will I ever know? I'm yet to find out. All I know is that since I kept it anyways, it is both mine and not mine. It was both meant for me and not. It was both sent to me and not. It is Schrödinger's rose. It is No One's rose. . . . I'm intrigued. |
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![]() ![]() ![]() The cover artwork featured above is used with special permission from IG: @squackoud
Special hashtags to watch out for:*** the following are specialised blog entries that have no set schedule compared to the usual bi-weekly postings.
#WednesdayWritings - drabbles, poetry, prose, short stories--- creative and expressive writing in no one's style.
#ThrowbackThursday - the cringey, the I-did-that? moments, the tear-inspiring, and the embarrassing moments of the past gone by--- available only here so shhhh...
#FreeThoughtFriday - a collection of 3AM thoughts for your collective amusement and might get you asking wtf?!
to see older posts:To view some of my older posts, there is a "previous" button hiding just below the bottom left corner of the last post of this page.
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