CUPID IS STUPID

Let me get a little cheesy here and give you some post-Valentine mushiness (blech!). I dug this up in an old memory box, this was supposed to be for Ahmad but I was too shy to give it to him…yes, this is Djai talking. Harhar!

To the Perfect One (well, at least I believe so…)

Cupid is losing his touch. He needs extra practice to get those Love arrows aiming right. He seems too slow for you. Or maybe you’re just too numb to feel it…or am I just cursed? I don’t know.

Wherever this may be going, fate must have something to do with it. My friends won’t agree though, they said you’re way above my league. They keep on knocking on my forehead with the ever famous line, “Dream on!” But whatever reality checks they snap at me, I still stand by my word…fate must have something to do with it…Like how would you explain those unsuspected moments when our eyes would clash for a second that we would withdraw only to clash again within minutes…or the incident at the Phelan Walk where I caught you whistling the song that I have planned to use in my fantasy wedding…or those times when you would pass by our boarding house late at night taking a sudden glimpse in my direction only to catch me staring airily above? And the funny thing is, it was you who I was wistfully thinking of. These might be plain coincidences to those who don’t dwell in love but I say it is how destiny plays around.

But I do know I can only nag you in verses, scribbling the reveries amidst the torments of my self-righteous drama, witnessed only by my newspaper wall then secretly filed in my computer’s hard disk…like “how you’ll sweep me off in a whirlwind invitation to a whirlwind conversation then a whirlwind dance to a whirlwind kiss in a room that is perfectly designed to shelter a whirlwind romance. “

You might think I’m a nutcase.

Maybe I am.

Retardation is just a relative term to this state I have been going through. Thinking about you does take its toll. My notebook is not spared from this suffering. Your name is etched beautifully on all of its pages like a black mantra of some sort. My sisters are getting dire sick of listening to my sweet complains of how extraordinary your eyes are and what pensive expressions you’ve got, luring me even more on your way. A bundle of contradiction you are. That rebel within your sweet, serene eyes entices me to delve deeper on this sickening throbs my heart suffers from. Even your flaws are terribly addictive.

Come to think of it, my friends may be right in some way. This may be another case of a Soap Opera Plot in-the-making of a Nobody like me, agonizing unrequited love for a Perfect Somebody like you. Stories like these have been passed hundreds of moons ago and half of those who suffered made their way home but the other half remained nostalgic. And I’m darn scared clinging to this thought. Cupid might be just wandering around, on the loose shooting arrows on those who don’t even need one…So please do show yourself to him…

Damn, this is getting us nowhere…

But fate, yes…fate will not disappoint those who wait. This letter will serve as a sign to give tomorrow a slight push. You might know or understand…but patience is a beautiful gift. It’s all I can afford for you…for us.

The Most Imperfect One

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The author claims to have had those tiny, cartoony hearts in her eyes and over her head while writing this article.

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