Status: Perilously Infatuated
It was in the middle of my Social Marketing and Broadcast Advocacy class when I found myself scribbling his initials at the back of my notebook.
I didn’t plan on doing it. Maybe the class bored me, maybe I already knew enough about Marketing so I decided to not pay attention because that was me being a natural stubborn, or maybe I realized that my fondness for him was so pathetic that acting all lovesick would make it more pathetic and push the thought that I’m really pathetic.
It is basically pathetic.
It’s pathetic that I miss him even though we don’t share any fond memories that don’t involve awkwardness and/or freaking out [from me]. It’s pathetic how one moment I don’t care about him, but just a message or a mention from him instantly brings back the infatuation that has already been living in me for more than two years. It’s pathetic how I only get to start a conversation with him when books are the topic, and I’d go nuts when he also reads what I read and like the characters that I like. It’s pathetic that it’s been two freakin’ eons and yet here I am, still hoping but obviously
hopeless. It’s pathetic how I keep telling myself that this foolishness will only bear spoiled fruits, but still I keep on watering and growing it. It’s pathetic that, albeit all of the painfully palpable flashing-in-neon-warning sign that says “Possible Heart Ache from Unrequited Love and False Hope!”, I still like him, a likeness that is, although inconsistent,
never ceasing.
I was waiting for a ride home when I started thinking of him again. When the public vehicle came, there was this random guy in a white shirt that also hopped in. My flirting instinct willed him to sit beside me; he did. It was crowded inside, and we’d have to squeeze everyone in so the driver would be a happy driver and the commuters would be grumpy commuters. I didn’t know why, but I felt
happy that I get to sit next to White Shirt Random Guy (WSRG) and be so close to him. Then I realized I was thinking of
him, the guy I’m talking about from the very start, the end receiver of my imprudent love. I was mentally coming up with scenes where we’d sit next to each other, get all cozy, be comfortable and be normal friends. I had no idea how WSRG reminded me of him. They didn’t look alike, not at all; even the style of their hair was dissimilar; don’t even ask about the height; I didn’t know how the both of them smelled but I was sure they also differ.
It was dead on weird. If this keeps happening, I might look at every guy and think of him, which is basically
not healthy.
You wouldn’t imagine how much I would want to see him right now… and not freak out or run away or do anything as stupid. Every time my friend and I make plans of meeting and catching up in her school, the first thing that would come out of my mind when I make a list of “Things I Would Get From This” is the idea of seeing him. And I feel guilty about it. It suggests the impression that I don’t care about my friend and that I miss him more than I miss her. That’s just so sick. But even though the idea is unacceptable and totally-Mary Sue, it happens; it’s true.
I miss him – I
always miss him, like every minute, every second, every hour of the day, every time that I’m away, I’m missing him, missing him (this is a song, if you don’t get the supposed-humor; he would surely do and snort in the process). I don’t know on what level of yearning he stands, but I bet he’s part of the upper half. I must
really like him… and it’s
scary.
I’m talking about the same guy I wrote about
here and
here; the second guy in
here; the same guy I had
dreams of;
this exact same guy; and basically the guy whom a quarter of my 200 posts is about.
I don’t know if I should move on and give the apple to someone else (other than Sam Concepcion, of course), because the despondency from this little crush is like a slap on my face. Every time I daydream about him, it feels weird, like forcing to wear badly fitted shoes just because they look awesome and such killers. As much as I would want to, I
can’t see him as someone I would hold hands with, share an extra large serving of ice cream with, laugh-snort with, visit bookstores with. It feels like we’re not
compatible, that he’s too good for me, that I’m too bad for him. Then I learned that he hasn’t had a girlfriend since birth, and what the
heck, look at
my record! And he’s good looking and smart and an all-around nice guy, but he’s like, “No, studies first before love.” And I’m like, “If you can juggle both then go!” – and heck, I’m not even good looking and smart and an all-around nice girl! (I even think that if he’s a girl, he’d look prettier than me. I’m not kidding.)
The feeling that he deserves somebody better keeps running through my mind and my veins. And. This. Sucks. Big. Time.
I don’t want to be pessimistic or a love killer or become anything evil, but I have this natural defense of slaying any romantic feeling right from the start, before it crawls everywhere and be out of control. Okay, okay, maybe I’m a love killer.
I’m just scared. I haven’t tried to stop this feeling for him because I’m not sure if it’s still a harmless infatuation and just point 209273761% away from becoming love, hanging by a flimsy thread. It’s not love yet, but I’m not sure. Sometimes it feels like
love, sometimes it’s just me being
hopeless romantic. It’s confusing, really – so confusing I want to fling this laptop like how a laptop-flinger flings a laptop, but I can’t because it’s a laptop and laptops are expensive so I think I’d just look for something less valuable and breakable than a laptop (and
ding! I just set a new world record for Most Number of the Word “Laptop” Used in One Sentence). I know this
isn’t love yet, and I
don’t want it to be love yet. It’s wretched to say this but… possibly unrequited love from false hopes can
seriously lead to heart aches. And I suck at heart aches, just as how much I suck at dancing (don’t even get me started – pandas dance better than me).
But even if I like him and he probably doesn’t like me back, I don’t want to forget him, our little secrets, ridiculous songs, epic fail gags and make-believe worlds. (We started this childish make-believe before where we’re in the
Hunger Games arena; we’re both from the same district; we’re helping each other so we both get to live; and basically we’re like Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. But when I said that I want to be Annie Cresta, he suddenly said that he’s The Boy with the Trident. Umm… err…
what?) I
cannot forget someone like him. Albeit the fact that we’re not super friends and we barely talk in person, I’m so grateful that at least, online/virtually, we established a relationship that can last until Facebook or Twitter dissolves (or
beyond that).
I know this may sound like a petty declaration of my petty love, but
Jesus Heavens, I like GEMV aka The Corny Dude aka The Geeky Guy with the Cyborg. Really. I don’t care if he reads this and feel awkward, or if one of his thousand friends reads this and rats me out and he’d feel awkward. I’ve been dying to tell this to him anyway. I just don’t like keeping admiration from someone who’s worth the recognition. If awkward we become after this, then awkward it is. Besides, he’s a good guy; he’s
not a douche bag. He knows this stuff. And that’s why I like him.
And I plan on keeping it on Infatuation Mode if necessary… or until it feels like it’s already beyond that. Ah, this is weird.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Status: Perilously Infatuated
It was in the middle of my Social Marketing and Broadcast Advocacy class when I found myself scribbling his initials at the back of my notebook.
I didn’t plan on doing it. Maybe the class bored me, maybe I already knew enough about Marketing so I decided to not pay attention because that was me being a natural stubborn, or maybe I realized that my fondness for him was so pathetic that acting all lovesick would make it more pathetic and push the thought that I’m really pathetic.
It is basically pathetic.
It’s pathetic that I miss him even though we don’t share any fond memories that don’t involve awkwardness and/or freaking out [from me]. It’s pathetic how one moment I don’t care about him, but just a message or a mention from him instantly brings back the infatuation that has already been living in me for more than two years. It’s pathetic how I only get to start a conversation with him when books are the topic, and I’d go nuts when he also reads what I read and like the characters that I like. It’s pathetic that it’s been two freakin’ eons and yet here I am, still hoping but obviously
hopeless. It’s pathetic how I keep telling myself that this foolishness will only bear spoiled fruits, but still I keep on watering and growing it. It’s pathetic that, albeit all of the painfully palpable flashing-in-neon-warning sign that says “Possible Heart Ache from Unrequited Love and False Hope!”, I still like him, a likeness that is, although inconsistent,
never ceasing.
I was waiting for a ride home when I started thinking of him again. When the public vehicle came, there was this random guy in a white shirt that also hopped in. My flirting instinct willed him to sit beside me; he did. It was crowded inside, and we’d have to squeeze everyone in so the driver would be a happy driver and the commuters would be grumpy commuters. I didn’t know why, but I felt
happy that I get to sit next to White Shirt Random Guy (WSRG) and be so close to him. Then I realized I was thinking of
him, the guy I’m talking about from the very start, the end receiver of my imprudent love. I was mentally coming up with scenes where we’d sit next to each other, get all cozy, be comfortable and be normal friends. I had no idea how WSRG reminded me of him. They didn’t look alike, not at all; even the style of their hair was dissimilar; don’t even ask about the height; I didn’t know how the both of them smelled but I was sure they also differ.
It was dead on weird. If this keeps happening, I might look at every guy and think of him, which is basically
not healthy.
You wouldn’t imagine how much I would want to see him right now… and not freak out or run away or do anything as stupid. Every time my friend and I make plans of meeting and catching up in her school, the first thing that would come out of my mind when I make a list of “Things I Would Get From This” is the idea of seeing him. And I feel guilty about it. It suggests the impression that I don’t care about my friend and that I miss him more than I miss her. That’s just so sick. But even though the idea is unacceptable and totally-Mary Sue, it happens; it’s true.
I miss him – I
always miss him, like every minute, every second, every hour of the day, every time that I’m away, I’m missing him, missing him (this is a song, if you don’t get the supposed-humor; he would surely do and snort in the process). I don’t know on what level of yearning he stands, but I bet he’s part of the upper half. I must
really like him… and it’s
scary.
I’m talking about the same guy I wrote about
here and
here; the second guy in
here; the same guy I had
dreams of;
this exact same guy; and basically the guy whom a quarter of my 200 posts is about.
I don’t know if I should move on and give the apple to someone else (other than Sam Concepcion, of course), because the despondency from this little crush is like a slap on my face. Every time I daydream about him, it feels weird, like forcing to wear badly fitted shoes just because they look awesome and such killers. As much as I would want to, I
can’t see him as someone I would hold hands with, share an extra large serving of ice cream with, laugh-snort with, visit bookstores with. It feels like we’re not
compatible, that he’s too good for me, that I’m too bad for him. Then I learned that he hasn’t had a girlfriend since birth, and what the
heck, look at
my record! And he’s good looking and smart and an all-around nice guy, but he’s like, “No, studies first before love.” And I’m like, “If you can juggle both then go!” – and heck, I’m not even good looking and smart and an all-around nice girl! (I even think that if he’s a girl, he’d look prettier than me. I’m not kidding.)
The feeling that he deserves somebody better keeps running through my mind and my veins. And. This. Sucks. Big. Time.
I don’t want to be pessimistic or a love killer or become anything evil, but I have this natural defense of slaying any romantic feeling right from the start, before it crawls everywhere and be out of control. Okay, okay, maybe I’m a love killer.
I’m just scared. I haven’t tried to stop this feeling for him because I’m not sure if it’s still a harmless infatuation and just point 209273761% away from becoming love, hanging by a flimsy thread. It’s not love yet, but I’m not sure. Sometimes it feels like
love, sometimes it’s just me being
hopeless romantic. It’s confusing, really – so confusing I want to fling this laptop like how a laptop-flinger flings a laptop, but I can’t because it’s a laptop and laptops are expensive so I think I’d just look for something less valuable and breakable than a laptop (and
ding! I just set a new world record for Most Number of the Word “Laptop” Used in One Sentence). I know this
isn’t love yet, and I
don’t want it to be love yet. It’s wretched to say this but… possibly unrequited love from false hopes can
seriously lead to heart aches. And I suck at heart aches, just as how much I suck at dancing (don’t even get me started – pandas dance better than me).
But even if I like him and he probably doesn’t like me back, I don’t want to forget him, our little secrets, ridiculous songs, epic fail gags and make-believe worlds. (We started this childish make-believe before where we’re in the
Hunger Games arena; we’re both from the same district; we’re helping each other so we both get to live; and basically we’re like Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. But when I said that I want to be Annie Cresta, he suddenly said that he’s The Boy with the Trident. Umm… err…
what?) I
cannot forget someone like him. Albeit the fact that we’re not super friends and we barely talk in person, I’m so grateful that at least, online/virtually, we established a relationship that can last until Facebook or Twitter dissolves (or
beyond that).
I know this may sound like a petty declaration of my petty love, but
Jesus Heavens, I like GEMV aka The Corny Dude aka The Geeky Guy with the Cyborg. Really. I don’t care if he reads this and feel awkward, or if one of his thousand friends reads this and rats me out and he’d feel awkward. I’ve been dying to tell this to him anyway. I just don’t like keeping admiration from someone who’s worth the recognition. If awkward we become after this, then awkward it is. Besides, he’s a good guy; he’s
not a douche bag. He knows this stuff. And that’s why I like him.
And I plan on keeping it on Infatuation Mode if necessary… or until it feels like it’s already beyond that. Ah, this is weird.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
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Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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