In the light of morning...
... her convictions from the night before ring empty. She wonders how long she can keep fooling herself. Trying to convince herself that she's happy, when it's obvious that the painful opposite is true. She wonders how her resolve can crumble so easily, like fragile ice. She wishes her will power were stronger; that she had what it took to follow through. But she is a flake, and she hates herself for it.
It is Valentine's Day. She wants to hate the holiday, but she can't muster the effort to do so. It's a meaningless holiday. She thinks it's ridiculous. It's as if all the couples have come out of hiding to flaunt their seemingly happy relationships in her face. She sees them everywhere. Holding hands. Sneaking stolen kisses. Cuddling to keep warm from the frigid winter chill. A part of her wants to smile at such happiness. And yet another wonders if such happiness truly exists and thinks that maybe it's all just an illusion. She wonders if maybe they're all in the same boat as her: trapped in an illusion that they long so much to be real. Then she wonders when she became so cynical.
Her significant other is away for the time being. And she can't help but think it's strangely funny that the one time she's in a relationship during this "holiday," she winds up alone anyway. Maybe Fate is trying to tell her something. She has the urge to take the bus and rent a movie. A sappy love story. Particularly one that will leave her sobbing in heaps. She could use a good cry. She's walking to the bus loop when she encounters a couple. The tenderness with which they hold each other breaks her. For reasons unknown to her, her eyes begin to leak. She closes her eyes, in a futile attempt to prevent the tears from creeping down her cold cheeks. They leave crooked tracks on her face, sending a shiver through her spine as an icy gust of wind blows in her direction. She wrenches herself from her sadness, and walks away, determinedly abandoning it on the cement dotted with potholes behind her.
She stares at the sky. It is dotted with stars, but their glow is faint compared to the harsh city lights. She feels so insignificant when she looks up at the sky, but she cannot deny herself the beauty. As much as she detests the bus, she adores the feeling of travelling. Of moving. Of defying inertia. She loves the feeling of being lost in the crowd. She cannot explain or comprehend why. She glances at the windows of the speeding bus, marvelling at how perfectly it reflects the passengers inside. She likes it because then she can people-watch without them noticing. She closes her eyes, and instantly her ears pick up the squealing howl of the bus as it rushes through the street. She braces her legs against the bumpy and jarring motion.
She hops off at her desired stop. She enjoys walking down the street at night. There's something rebellious about it that she cannot explain. The unrestrained freedom she feels in her bones and the fresh air filling her lungs almost overwhelm her. She passes by several restaurants. Their windows are filled with candle-lit tables and lovers whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. She wishes she weren't alone right now. Her pride berates her for thinking such a weak thought. She shakes herself from her reverie. She blinks. But the world is the same, as it was two seconds ago. Her heart sinks to her feet.
She wonders if she will remember this moment. Someone once told her that the meaningless moments are the ones we should never forget. The ironic truth shook her.
It is Valentine's Day. She wants to hate the holiday, but she can't muster the effort to do so. It's a meaningless holiday. She thinks it's ridiculous. It's as if all the couples have come out of hiding to flaunt their seemingly happy relationships in her face. She sees them everywhere. Holding hands. Sneaking stolen kisses. Cuddling to keep warm from the frigid winter chill. A part of her wants to smile at such happiness. And yet another wonders if such happiness truly exists and thinks that maybe it's all just an illusion. She wonders if maybe they're all in the same boat as her: trapped in an illusion that they long so much to be real. Then she wonders when she became so cynical.
Her significant other is away for the time being. And she can't help but think it's strangely funny that the one time she's in a relationship during this "holiday," she winds up alone anyway. Maybe Fate is trying to tell her something. She has the urge to take the bus and rent a movie. A sappy love story. Particularly one that will leave her sobbing in heaps. She could use a good cry. She's walking to the bus loop when she encounters a couple. The tenderness with which they hold each other breaks her. For reasons unknown to her, her eyes begin to leak. She closes her eyes, in a futile attempt to prevent the tears from creeping down her cold cheeks. They leave crooked tracks on her face, sending a shiver through her spine as an icy gust of wind blows in her direction. She wrenches herself from her sadness, and walks away, determinedly abandoning it on the cement dotted with potholes behind her.
She stares at the sky. It is dotted with stars, but their glow is faint compared to the harsh city lights. She feels so insignificant when she looks up at the sky, but she cannot deny herself the beauty. As much as she detests the bus, she adores the feeling of travelling. Of moving. Of defying inertia. She loves the feeling of being lost in the crowd. She cannot explain or comprehend why. She glances at the windows of the speeding bus, marvelling at how perfectly it reflects the passengers inside. She likes it because then she can people-watch without them noticing. She closes her eyes, and instantly her ears pick up the squealing howl of the bus as it rushes through the street. She braces her legs against the bumpy and jarring motion.
She hops off at her desired stop. She enjoys walking down the street at night. There's something rebellious about it that she cannot explain. The unrestrained freedom she feels in her bones and the fresh air filling her lungs almost overwhelm her. She passes by several restaurants. Their windows are filled with candle-lit tables and lovers whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. She wishes she weren't alone right now. Her pride berates her for thinking such a weak thought. She shakes herself from her reverie. She blinks. But the world is the same, as it was two seconds ago. Her heart sinks to her feet.
She wonders if she will remember this moment. Someone once told her that the meaningless moments are the ones we should never forget. The ironic truth shook her.