Hi.
It's been a while, and I guess I was pretty much too uninspired, lazy and indifferent to post anything here. Somehow, the realisation that this nook I have has become more webby (pun not intended) and ostracised far from even the reader I may have garnered has prodded me to actually want to share my recent status here.
That and I needed an outlet. There are some things I don't even tell my Bestie (somewhat because I love her so much, and also probably because I am a little insecure about these things) (and this is weird, because she might just read it all up here anyway) or my other close friends.
I'm still single.
And when I say 'still', I mean that I have yet to ever get official with anyone.
Some people might say, "don't worry, you're still young", or "you should savour your singledom while you still can", or even "you'll find one sooner or later".
The thing is, I already know for myself that I might never ever get a boyfriend. I mean, it's just part of the general probabilities. And it's not just an issue with me being excessively choosy or me being a difficult person to be attached with (although some of my friends might disagree with me and just label me a stubborn cow). I am not happy single. I really am not. And I'm sorry, but I don't believe in the whole "you cannot be happy with someone when you can't be happy by yourself". I might not like crowds, but I want to be with my life partner, and it is sitting high on my lifetime goals.
And being unsuccessful for far too long is starting to take a toll on me and my self-esteem. Yes, I do have my own share of physical and mental insecurities, but each of them are further amplified by extended periods of failure. It doesn't help that some of my friends (the gay ones especially), who keep regaling me with tales of their latest flirts/dates/relationships/sexual exploits.
Somehow, I envy the shallow ones, those who do not give a shit about anyone else, who are hedonists by nature, seeking only pleasures of the flesh and perceived happiness of the mind, sinking deeper into a world they assume they have created by themselves but actually is a construct of their social reality. I wished I could just slut. Yet, I know I can't. I cannot be happy, no matter how many hot guys I sleep with, how great the sex may be, how numerous the possessions I have.
I am so weak.
My 25th birthday just passed.
It was very low profile, and that's fine, but it still isn't a celebration I would have wanted. I wasn't fully well, and sleep has eluded me these couple of days. I only met up with a few, but at this point of time, I really know the friends who really, REALLY, cared for me (and will care for me), and it's just less than a handful. At the same time, I know I should feel lucky. Some people don't even have one.
I must learn to love more. There is already so much hate and indifference in the world.
Sometime back, a friend told me that the only thing his partner needed to have was kindness. The kind of kindness who needs no excuse to be good, that is consistently helpful regardless of whether people take advantage of them. At that point, I argued that you still should be smart enough not to be conned. Months have passed, and I have started to see the reality he has been seeing through. True kindness is really the most important thing.
I don't know where I'm going with all this.
Good night, and love deeply, love kindly.
XOXO
Min
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