Patty (woodycakes) wrote,
Patty
woodycakes

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Still Alone

Pamy loves sending me heart wrenching things. In fact, my entire inbox is filled with mushy stories or heart breaking anecdotes that make me want to cry. Unfortunately, thanks to Edsamail not being free anymore, and my stupidity of forgetting to back-up my files before reformatting, all those happy, giddy, crushing, hurtful love stories or whatevers are deleted forever. Beautiful.

But that's not the reason for this. The reason is, I can relate. Entries like these, make me want to write so much better. I wish I had her style of articulating what she thinks. All my ideas are messed up in my head and I can't ever get anything this clear onto paper. Everything always ends up one huge mess. Vague and incoherent. Still, in the spirit of Single Awareness Day, which is coming up, I have decided to put this here.

Read it, seriously. It really makes my heart ache.

Why did my heart cry loving me?

from squickyclean's Live Journal (March 26, 2004)

I broke down yesterday, sobbing about being mediocre, about being nothing special. Middling and unexceptional and completely ordinary, that's me. All I wanted was to be a little special. Just a bit. Just enough for people to say, hey there's a cool girl instead of giving me the once-over and remarking what a waste, she could've been great, but no she's just plain ordinary.

It saddened me this morning to think that part of the reason why I want to shine, just a little, not even like the sun on a blazing April afternoon but content with just a glimmer of light like a star in a smog-streaked sky, is because I want to special enough for him to fall in love with me.

Not any particular him. Men, I guess, in general. All my life I wanted to be special, and when I started fancying the opposite sex part of the reason I wanted it was so that who ever I wanted would notice me.

Pathetic, really.

And completely illogical- all the people I've fallen in love with, it wasn't because they were exceptional or brilliant. They just...were.

It would always be one of two things: ting! or fungus.

I've mentioned ting! before. It's that moment that makes a guy cross over from being cute, from being eye candy, from being a great friend, to someone you want. Someone you feel that you need. Someone to be with, someone worth the fight.

Ting! could be anything, really. A silly remark, a weird gesture, a song sung or a joke cracked, so small but it brings part of your world tumbling down. I remember mango trees and MRTs and movie references and songs sung and softdrinks bought and cookies eaten. And it's hard to shake off, it's hard to deal with logic when it's just one little thing that made you fall.

And then there's fungus.

You look and it's just an insignificant speck on a slice of bread, then when you next open the breadbox it's full of fluffy green rancid stuff and you're in love.

Them fungus boys, they creep into your life, scattering bits of themselves like spores. (No, not that, you naughty person you.) A helping hand, a dream, a smile. Shared interests come to light, secrets are revealed, teasing and laughter and things traded swapped until you don't know which is yours and which is his and it's too late, all of a sudden, the boy next door, the classmate, the friend, the kabarkada has become the most beautiful person on earth.

They didn't have to do anything special, those boys. They were just themselves, they were just there, and I fell for them. Crazy head over heels sputnik sweetheart laying to waste Angkor Wat incinerating Persian jungles burying exotic cities in a sea of sand kind of falling.

And half the time, those boys never knew. Never had a clue.

So it makes me wonder, if there's someone out there, someone who looks at me and doesn't see a wallflower, doesn't see a dumbass who lives in the library, looks at me the way I looked at those boys. If there's someone out there for whom I don't need to be special. Someone I've ting!ed or fungused by being my plain, middling, mediocre self.

Someone who thinks I'm beautiful and wants me.

Or maybe it's just the heat and the lack of sleep and the fear of Neurology talking.

At least that exam is over; I'm just going to trust in God to take care of the rest.
Tags: relationships
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