No, I’m not pining for attention. That remorseful idea didn’t even surface until some asshole brilliantly enlightened me with remarkable exuberance that I am indeed craving for attention. Attention from what, I have no idea. But my tact proved unnecessary for the question seemed not to qualify the pronoun What; more likely, it’s Who. I’ve been in a seemingly irrational but highly emotional state that I found myself not functioning very well these past few days. If getting real sleep poses a real challenge, imagine what it would be like the following morning when you flutter your eyes open, and even before your brain receives the proper signals going through your synapses reminding you to open your gaping mouth and express diplomatic greetings of Hellos and Good Mornings, you realize that it’s going to be another hell of a day, nothing new to brag about, and basically have no one to mend the frayed pieces into one.
Most people think that I’m bursting with happiness, judging from the fact that I engage in hysterical and oftentimes hilarious conversations prompting gales of laughter in the process. But behind that uproarious giggling and intellectual chitchats is an entirely different human being – a freakazoid, not at all a loner, but I’m alone nonetheless for I’ve been a celibate for a longish time. I feel like there’s a very large hole that I have to plug, but the problem is I don’t know where the hole is. I’ve been trying to divert my attention to lots of interesting stuff. For instance, gadgets. I’m a tech whore, and I spend a large chunk of my retail therapy sessions in techie shops. Also I try to lose myself in books, and reading must be done in coffee shops. I require myself to do this bit of ritual at least once a week or I’d get freakier. Apart from these, I also go out with friends, and I recently found out the real purpose of the existence of Chocolate Kiss in UP, which brings me to another kind of diversion: eating out. My choice of restaurant depends on my mood for that particular day, and thanks to my frequent mood swings I can actually compare which is better. From Mandarin Oriental to Jollibee, Café Breton to Figaro, Max Brenner to Brownies Unlimited, Masas to Barrio Fiesta, I owe my eating experiences to them for I therefore conclude hereon that I am not a picky eater as compared to what friends say.
Despite this seemingly quote completeness unquote, I still feel a little dullness. I have resources within my reach, I do well in school, but then I’m not at all happy. You know those flicks wherein the filthy rich protagonists undergo some sort of a crisis, feel very discontented and gloomy with their lives, and find out in the long run that the only probable solution for their existential anguish is to renounce all their worldly treasures, and then they live happily ever after? I think I’m just like one of them, except that I am not filthy rich and have no worldly treasures to renounce for if I so much give up all what is left of me I would definitely end up a stinking cadaver.
What’s the point I’m driving at? I’m kind of missing someone. Kind of. That someone from my not-so-glimmering but nonetheless exciting past. Been having attempts to forget Someone, but she just wants to stay in my subconscious. A friend advised me to look for other prospects. That way I wouldn’t be feel so fucked up or something like that. Then I did what he advised me to do: I went to serious girl-hunting. For the first few attempts at groveling I found the experience quite exciting, but I realized that as I went along (with my friend as a companion) it was pointless. The only available flesh that would fling upon me would either look like a gargoyle or has a face that launched a thousand…missiles. I would eye for lovely beautiful girls then I’d get turned off for two simple reasons: intellectual differences and extreme bitchiness – and I hate the combination of the two. These phenomena always happen. Okay, not at all times, but on a regular basis. Occasionally I get to hook a potential mate, but the effects are way beyond human recognition of the word relationship. There are bombarding of nuclear insults, bombarding of nuclear-strength juices (ha ha!), and cleaning up the mess is just nasty, and it’s usually me who waves the white flag, letting it billow in the breeze for I really can’t be so indifferent with my feelings – at least I’m being transparent; other guys are so much obsessed with their egos, and letting a girl step on them is so like building the Pyramids single-handedly. You can look them up in my previous posts, and you can conclude that I wasn’t really in a relationship. I try to work things out. I try. But oftentimes it just doesn’t work.
Friends declare that if I try to figure out where my destined special someone is, Special Someone will not arrive at my doorstep. They added that Special Someone, at the right time and space continuum, will turn up effortlessly and will give me that perfect blend of smooches. Hmmm, sounds pretty uplifting. I can’t wait any further.