Ever fancied someone you know you shouldn’t?
It hurts, doesn’t it?
But it’s a good kind of hurt.
Particularly, this fancy of mine gives me hope that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with the goodness of the world.
That’s why I’m only halfheartedly trying to move on. Because I want this little sliver of hope.
I’m forgoing the picture and instead just took a picture of a letter because frankly, I had no idea what a picture and a letter means.
In the age of
e-mails Facebook, it seems like there’s no room anymore for the good old-fashioned handwritten letter. Apart from school-related letters that are really addressed to my grandparents (but I open them anyway), I never receive any mail. And even if for some wacky reason that I do, it’d most likely be typed and how written by hand.
Not to turn this into a Harry Potter related post, but that’s one of the many reasons why I like the HP universe so much. I like the pieces of parchment and the quills and the ink pots, and I like the owls and the — wait, I don’t really like the waiting for the letters to arrive part. =S
Anyway, as a girl who has strict beliefs on the written word, I would love to receive a handwritten letter one day. I vowed to myself once that I’d get myself a stationary set — complete with fountain pens and all — but I suppose procrastination gets the better of us all. ^_^
I wrote that letter above during one of my fits of melodrama. I won’t say much, but it’s a letter addressed to Future Me ‘warning’ myself that falling in ‘love’ was a dangerous thing, especially if the object of my ‘love’ is someone I can’t be with. About two paragraphs into the letter, it became a rant about how he makes me fall in ‘love’ with him even though I try not to.
Yeah, it kinda defeated the purpose.
Love? What is love to a teen but a fleeting emotion when he or she sees their beloved across the room? What is love but an insistent annoyance whenever you are in their presence?
Okay, to be honest, that wasn’t love. Merely infatuation. A passing crush that’s just not willing to pass. >.< Stubborn emotion. I hate that, you know? When I fall for someone, I fall long and hard. And it’s usually people I can’t have. Like him…
But anyway, really, what is love? I’m a teenage girl admitting that I’m not sure I’m even capable of loving anything, let alone anyone. I’m a selfish prick with no other motives other than my own, and when I do something nice, it’s most likely because I want to squash that guilty emotion welling up inside me.
I’m a cynic, a narcissistic and just plain mean. Just ask the people who know me.
I don’t love anything. I get obsessed with things, but I don’t downright love them. I love people, I suppose. I love my mom and I love my brother… but sometimes I feel like I have to. I want to love someone whom I’m not obligated to love — I just haven’t found that person yet.
Or, that person I want to love just isn’t right for me.
Anyhow, love is too big a thing for me to even begin contemplating, so I’d rather give up right now. Still, I need a picture of something I love. I’m a girl, right? And what does a girl love more than chocolate, eh?
Oh, I dunno… peace and quiet? Some alone time?
Yeah, that’s what I want. I love my privacy. I want a place of my own, somewhere I can unwind and be myself. I like being by myself most of the time anyway. What can I say, I love me!
“To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you’re getting this down.”
– Woody Allen
So I was just minding my own business tonight, browsing through my various accounts in the internet and checking my email when out of nowhere, my hand clicked on one of the articles at the Yahoo! website. My hand has done this before: clicking on things I had no plan on reading. It must some sort of result from my low attention span. I might find a picture or the title interesting, but I wouldn’t be bothered at all with the article.
It took me about fifteen minutes to finally realize that I had this tab waiting for me to peruse. It was an article about a coach who gets mistaken for one of his players. Truth be told, from the look of things, that’s not hard to do. I mean, the guy’s 23.
…Del Valle [that’s his name] is already one of the youngest varsity baseball coaches in the country. Yet, as the Daily News photo above portrays all too well — the coach is the guy with the glasses, not the one grimacing on the side of the shot — Del Valle looks even younger than that. In fact, he looks so young, that his players even needed convincing that he was the guy calling the shots at their first practices of the season.
“When I first saw him I thought he was a player,” Scanlan catcher Albert Fernandez told the Daily News. “I thought he was a transfer student.”
Reading some more, I find out that he’s still in college, currently finishing his bachelor’s degree in business. He’s 5-foot-10 and weighs 167 pounds. His voice is still like a teenager’s (I’m guessing it’s still breaking or whatever). He also, and I quote:
…is known for erupting from the bench when his team does anything notable, whether good or bad.
After finishing the article, I was already crushing on the guy. It’s strange because I haven’t even met him. I’ve only seen on picture of him and it’s of him shouting at his team. But his glasses are really cute, though.
I’m sure I’ll grow out of this “crush” tomorrow.
Speaking crushes, I can’t help but think of my current crush. He’s exactly like Del Valle in the sense that they have the same circumstance. I won’t specify in fear of him reading this. Gosh, I hope he never reads this.
But back to the topic: What is wrong with me? Why am I always attracted to nerds, geeks and overachievers? Practically all my friends like the gwapo, good-looking guys. I mean, I do as well… but for a serious attraction? No, I have to turn to the person I can’t ever have.
Oh, the horrors of unrequited love.
I won’t say that this is a picture of my favorite night, because I’m quite optimistic that I’ll have more fun nights in the future. That picture you’re seeing up there, is a messed up take (which was taken on purpose… I think) of something I’m not quite sure of right now.
It was Bethel International School’s first ever prom night. It was my first ever prom night. I danced and had fun and threw all the cares I had out the window. The only down side was that there were teachers in attendance, along with the school principal. But meh — can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.
Oh, if only I had danced with him… sigh. Unrequited love, much?
Last night was the Recognition Ceremony of my school and, suffice to say, I didn’t have high hopes for it apart from the fact that I got one more award than last year. I would be the very first graduation for the Senior class also, so it’s pretty special, but it didn’t do much to raise my spirits. I applaud the Seniors, really, but the ceremony was just that boring.
Of course, I can’t just say that the night was uneventful. It might’ve started that way — I mean, there was nothing noteworthy until the guest speaker appeared onstage with his humourous speech — but as the night progressed, I found myself enjoying the hour.
As with every year, I buy a dress for the occasion. This time, the dress I chose (a chic pink number, which I accessorized with a black leather belt) was wonderful and people complimented me on it. The shoes, black leather wedges, I borrowed from my grandmother. I always do that, anyway ;D
When my name was called, I got on stage and took my medal, smiled and, though I can’t remember it, I must’ve curtseyed and then traipsed off the stage. The principal jokingly asked where my long boots were (I had worn them a few days before at practice), and I understood that it was her way of gently chiding me for my outrageous fashion sense. Because really, long boots were uncommon where I come from.
Anyhow, the highlight of my night was when he noticed me and congratulated me for my awards…. At least I think it was for my awards. Everyone was just crowding around each other, shaking hands and trading smiles. It was very confusing and, for some reason, I felt like a celebrity.
The night was wonderful. I was ecstatic. I was on high from that brief conversation. And as always, my grandparents had to be the killjoys. We went home early before I even got a chance to say a proper goodbye to my friends, many of whom I won’t be seeing until the next school year.
I know, sad.
But at least I had the memory of him congratulating me. Song of the moment? Untouchable by Taylor Swift.