There is so much stuff on the Internet telling me every single person must have a partner.
Yep, whatever you call your partner. Boo! Screw whoever thinks this way.
My mind keeps babbling as to how much I hate the fact that, unlike everyone, I don’t have someone to take care of me, send me sweet messages in the morning and before going to bed, post my face on his “My day”, hold my hands, take pictures of me, or simply be with me.
I am Yana, short for Miryanah. Welcome to my mind.
With a disclaimer: this is not a love story.
Chapter 1 Senior High School
What does a senior high school student love more than her friends, concealer and lipstick, a little bit of study time, and romantic dates?
School bells ringing.
After split seconds, SHS students grabbed their things and enjoyed talking to their companions. Everyone had their moments.
I looked around and the corridors were filled with girls with their boys. As I roamed, I looked away and held my glasses perched on my nose.
What normal scenes probably arise in this situation?
A. I will bump into someone who smells so nice like ooohhh with the whimsical background all over
B. I will slip and a masculine hand will try to catch me. Wield my back, look into my eyes, and whisper, “are you okay?”
Well… I normally passed by the corridor without anything “romantic” happen and I sighed.
As the classes ran by, I started to think I was outdated of everything. And by everything, I meant fashion, beauty, intellect, and so on.
“What is the plural of the word, ‘laundry?” Fernandez? asked my English teacher.
She lowered her head because it was entirely obvious, I was in my space thinking of what type of clothes would fit my fair skin, my curvy body, and thick hips.
“Is everything okay?” she insisted.
No!!! My everything is ruined!! Look how ugly duckling I am!! And that is because of you!! You have never loved me for who I am!!”
My lips quivered when I saw what was happening. It seemed that I shouted all the ideas I was just pondering on. That left Ms. Carpio, a young and dedicated teacher frustrated. I saw her world melted down like when you press the half-full toothpaste tube and it made a bizarre sound when it comes out.
The incident was followed by the laughter of my classmates and it echoed in my ears. What have you done?
I mumbled, “May I go to the washroom?” I didn’t wait for her to respond. I rushed my way on the corridors and straight away open the doors of the comfort rooms.
What did I do? What did I do? Oh, no. They say “respond not react”. I can do this. But.. What can I do? What should I do? Wait. What did I say there? Did I say everything? Did I say “I am ugly”? Oh no.
My classmates’ faces were flashing through my memory and they were already mocking me. The more I could see their faces the more they joyfully teaming on me.
AAAAAHHHH UGLY DUCKLING!
How stupid can I be?!!
My insecurity levels were fueled that moment, thus, another encounter of my idiocracy was not welcome anymore.
I stood up from being dumped in the corner of the hall. I narrowed my brows and my palms formed fists. I couldn’t let anyone behold me like this.
Like this! I said it loud again.
A gush of wind flushed and suddenly, my hair was twirled. I did not even know if it made my cheeks rosy cheeks to, but it was.