february fourteeth.

Nursing a tiny weeny glass of cho-ya, 

I sit barely sober in front of this blog page.

Trying to squeeze the day's events, weaving them into a narrative

with half opened eyes.

Because I kept drilling into myself, not to have any bit of expectations for today,

this perhaps scaled down the intensity of the disappointment.

It is not to say that I am discontented,

but indeed,

this stirring of unhappiness is derived in relative to the other puppy-eyed teenagers.

I forced myself not to expect, not to compare, not to dream.

But in the little fantasies, I kept hoping he would attempt to make an effort.

In anything really; 

watching a non-blockbuster film I would so much more appreciate,

doing something  just different, out of the usual movie-dinner routine,

a stalk of rose, or anything reminiscent to anything stereotypical of this day.  

Something just plainly stupidly romantic.

It was terrible for me to have sulked the whole day, 

a sad, bored look attempting to appear as if nothing is really wrong.

But really, a flashback hit me how museum-visiting,

or anything just a tiny winny bit more different and experimental,

can only be a memory of a past, a thread of youthful fickle-ness.

What only enhanced the unsettlement: 

were the free flowing strings of couples doing the simplest of events I couldn't participate in,

the simple act of holding hands.

Perhaps indeed, 

its just all this menstrual highly strung hormones raging in within me.

Yet by his standards,

to have made time to carve the opportunity for a movie in town was a great effort.

His idea of doting on me 

was the simple act of allowing me to pick any choice of dinner,

bringing out that packet of tissue he knows I never carry but always needed,

maintaining that constant bubbly spirit and rubbish talk even when facing the sulky partner,

going that extra effort to resolve all iphone related issues...

nothing romantic, but vaguely reminiscent to actions I deemed as sweet.

I recognised all that effort, and yet I still thew all that silly tantrums.

Why!

This big day ended lovely, a nice dinner 

and a closeness so transient, yet unmistakably present.

I left for home, almost happy but still silently despond.

This nagging persistent feeling of un-contentment...

I hope it'd tide away when the tide draws back.

This is such a petty post you should just ignore me altogether.