It is very bizarre for me to talk about “love and romance” stuff in this blog. This time, I’ll make an exemption. Bear with me, or just click that “X” thing at the upper right corner of your screen and get lost.

I think I’ve just officially lost all my faith on this intangible force of nature called love. No matter how many times I’ve been hurt in the past, I try my best not to be too discouraged but this time I think I’ve had enough.

Yesterday, I’ve just found out that the guy I’m eyeing is already courting someone else. It’s just a rumor though. A friend of mine heard news about him giving a lady a bouquet of flowers earlier that morning. And what’s more annoying is that the girl he is rumored to be courting is the very same hirsute that I abhor the most. I reserve all the rights to call her that because she wasn’t really nice during our encounters. She kept on giving me this sharp, odd look as if she wanted to beat me to a pulp. Now I’m the one who wants to beat her to a pulp.

This girl’s soooo annoying, really. She kept on giving him testimonials on friendster and calling him “my hubby” and “my prince” whatever. So I thought that maybe she’s hallucinating and just making a big deal about the flowers – and kept on telling her equally - hairy friends that he’s already courting her. I also assumed that maybe it’s just her birthday and her hairy friends had this sort of “conspiracy” (her hairy friends tolerate her “I’m-so-in-love-with-you-so-why-not-come-and-get-me gestures…) – that he’ll be the one to give her the flowers as a birthday gift. I checked out her friendster account and to my horror it isn’t her birthday – January’s not her month. Lo and behold, I’m in deep trouble. Yet again.

And although I’m not really sure about the news, I already lost interest in him and didn’t even bother to say “hi” whenever I see him. As if he doesn’t exist.

Yeah, call me small-minded if you want. But it’s my thing. I don’t take it as a joke. Of all the girls, why her? Darn, that’s one of the stupid-est questions I ever have to ask myself. And then I’ll let go. There’s no use in frowning about it – I’ll just get my precious face wrinkled. And there’s no use in crying too. Even if I already cried my whole eyes out it’ll never change a thing.

And besides, as my classmate Marge said, “there’s more to life than romance”. I mean, I’m young and fabulous, and I’ve got a lot of things to discover, to think about, to worry about, to smile about, and to thank God for. Why wallow in self – pity for not having a boyfriend at the age of 20? If it’s really him & me, it’ll still be him & me at the end. (Am I using the right pronouns?!) And besides, I’m just wasting my precious time if I’ll do that. What a waste.

The moment I deeply thought about it, I really wanted to cry the pain out. But it seems I haven’t got any tears to cry anymore. Kudos.


And the pain was further fueled when I saw him at the Job Fair hours ago. I was signing up for an SSS number when I saw him on my left side – signing up for one company while on my right side was JB (my former love interest), also signing up for an SSS number. And I was like, “Wala kayong pinag-kaibang dalawa. “. They’re both so near and yet so far. And then I thought falling in love will always be just like that – I’ll just get myself damned over and over again.

Our encounter (JB and I) wasn’t really nice. We have seen a lot of each other for the day but we didn’t bother to say “hi” to each other. And when our passed crossed I didn’t even bother to look at him – I acted as if I am getting something inside my bag. My friend Dianne said that he also didn’t look at me and instead he just interestingly looked at the floor while walking. It was no big deal. Now I also remembered the countless instances he has unintentionally caused me harm.

It’s not really their fault, though. They aren’t aware of my feelings (oh, JB is!)…and if ever they’re aware of it, there’s nothing that I (or they) could do about it. I can’t make them love me and they also can’t make me NOT love them. Haha.

Fin.

Labels: Atrocities, Head Over Heels, The Great Depression