Raindrops on roses don't cut it

Sometimes I wonder how it’s like to be together with someone. Even the weirdest people I know seem to have relationships yet I don’t. I’m fine with being single, but sometimes I just wanna curl up in a ball and cry my lonely heart out when I hear of supposedly sweet, heartwarming stories of love that I’ve never felt. I’m blessed with the love of my friends and family… but that’s different. I hate it every time I hear about a girl’s boyfriend surprising her in her house with her favourite flowers or her boyfriend goes out of his way to bring her home so she stays safe. I’m totally happy for them, but there’s that part in me that’s just sad.

Though, I’m half-glad half-sad that my closest friends are forever alone too. When you listen to us, you’ll never hear about our cutie patootie stories of us and our love escapades; you’ll hear us and our crazy adventures of nothingness. I guess that isn’t bad but it gets boring when there’s nothing about our love lives.

It also sucks when my family or family friends ask me about my personal life. It’s like just because I’m a teenage girl, I’m supposed to have a boyfriend. Then when I say I don’t, they look at me like I’m speaking klingon. What’s weirder is when my parents talk about their teenage years. It’s so awkward how some of the ladies in Church were my dad’s ex-girlfriends and how their children are my friends. My mother’s love life is so… wow. Seeing as she’s a Makati girl, her ex-boyfriends are either rich, Chinese or both… and then there’s me. Whoopie!

Now I shall continue the pity party by watching The Big Bang Theory and depress over the fact that even Sheldon Cooper, the most awkward yet intelligent fictional character I know, has a girl that’s a friend and not a girlfriend.

FUCK FEBRUARY.