"oh! my goddess!"

If I describe you in one word, that would be transcendent. The whole lot. Intellect. Elegance. Poise. Beauty. Grace. Yeah, godlike. And like the god that I know, I tremble before you. I’ve always felt that you would strike me with lightning if I ever make you furious. So far, no burns. I’ve managed to scurry off whenever you were about to cast your eyes on me with misgivings.

Yet, you were everything I hoped to be then. No less. And I’ve always wanted to befriend you. Desperately. But I was so naive! I remember we had this English literature project in which I watercolor-painted a sea cresting on rocks by a cliff with the poem of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s How do I love Thee. Remember that? I really wanted you to have it. But you said something...something else...
and returned it! I was so embarrassed! (Yeah, that was a very long time ago! Sometimes I forget what day it is and sometimes it scares me that I still remember these things.)

Anyway, I thought hard about my actions, agreed that maybe I went over the hills for you and may have put you in an awkward situation. So, I placed the watercolor painting on my mother’s bedside wall and felt even worse when she herself didn’t comment on it. What a day that was. No wonder I couldn’t forget it. No wonder I never pursued painting either.

I’ve managed to bother you a lot more after that, like the last time we talked and told me to grow up. You know, I still have dreams with you in white flapping dress, your hair loose, luminous eyes, gathering up a storm, dark clouds and thunder whirling above me,
reckoning the right moment to strike me. Scary, I know. I realized that whenever my life’s a mess, soon I would dream of you shaking your head in disappointment and just about ready to burn me in hell. I haven’t changed a bit, huh?

What can I do? It’s me! I am what I am! I’m melodramatic. Not loving it. I’m beautiful. Not loving it. I’m in love. Not loving it. I’m angry. Not loving it. I have everything. Not loving it. I’m miserable. Not loving it. I have my work. Not loving it. I go back and forth and they still tell me “Grow up!” You could just imagine how many gods I have to go through all that.

But I did try. It’s an insurmountable task. I’m getting nowhere. And now, here I am, reduced to blogging my way to you. I suppose, I just need a friend and I still want it to be you.


Posted by goyathegreat at 3:43 PM
Labels: for you