they say that ten shooting stars can be seen within one hour. and as i sat beneath the surprisingly starry skies one depressingly perfect evening, i patiently wait. i have been wishing on falling stars long before i could construct a coherent sentence. and long before i took into heart the virtue of patience and the essence of waiting. for one hour i stare at the sky… in its vastness, i saw only one. one frikkin’ shooting star. i risk getting cross-eyed for sixty minutes and all for one frikkin star?! if there is a god, he is showing me no mercy.
astronomy is an exact science,yeah? i was ready with ten wishes for the ten stars that are supposed to fall in one hour. don’t tell me i have wasted one perfectly good hour of my busy existence just to be able to make one wish. it’s a conspiracy. just when i have made time to wish on falling stars, the stars decide not to fall. just my luck.
soul-searching. my primary objective as of the moment. after all the bullcrap i’ve gotten myself into the past couple of years, after all the horrific decisions i’ve made, after all the wrong people i have gotten involved with… i have reached exhaustion… this is the point of no return.
elusive happiness. the one thing i could never have. bitterness, sarcasm, cynicism and all other gothic homicidal adjectives have successfully embedded themselves like thick crusty barnacles unto my persona. i was made to be dark and twisty. like a vampire’s coffin from the 1500’s. not bright and shiny. like the million dollar diamond studded brassiere from victoria’s secret.
reciprocity. a chance of sharing my life with someone. a shot at happiness. at the end of the day, to have someone to go home to and talk to and cuddle with and hold me in his arms and make me think that everything i do has meaning. and that my life actually has a purpose. to have someone treat me the way i should be treated… like a princess… like a goddess… someone who actually thinks i’m perfect just the way i am… and to have someone miss me more than i actually miss him… someone who makes the usually stubborn, retarded and pessimistic me turn into a quivering mass of happy jelly with one statement like: “you’re more than enough.” and i thought words were only words… but he makes me think otherwise.
ambiguity. there are no gray areas in my world. everything is in black and white. all questions have to be answered and all doubts have to be erased. me and no one else. stay or go. all investigative queries: the how, why, when, where, what and with who have to be satisfactorily answered. why? because ambiguity leads to questions. and unanswered questions lead to doubt. and doubt means questioning trust. and freakin’ commitment phobics like myself have plenty of trust issues. there is no room for ambiguity in my world.
why am i writing this? is this a pathetic attempt to try and reconstruct some sort of normalcy in my life? why am i doing this? but most of all, what am i doing with him?
i should stop asking questions. i should stop thinking too much. i should just stop. and accept the fact that i could… be happy.
maybe i don’t need to soul-search. maybe i don’t need to wish on ten shooting stars. maybe i should stop asking questions.
because the answer might be right in front me. because all i might need to wish on is just one shooting star. because maybe it’s not my soul that i’m searching for… because maybe, just maybe… all the while, it’s him that i’ve been looking for…