Do You Believe?


But then, I, too, wear the garments of pride and ego perhaps of a better fabric than yours and now I know I am a super female, the xxx-chromosomed human being if you care to call that.

***

These days I feel somewhat of a minimalist, in the way I am, the way I speak – usually with short sentences and some measured hand gesturing. What I wear is not very different. I am, and always have been branded, a non-conformist. I do not subscribe to a particular school or generation of fashion (among other things) and wear whatever I feel most comfortable in. Except that recently, I have taken to wearing flip-flops, flat ballet shoes, glittery sandals, and well, my Reebok Zig Nano, most of the time because I want to give my feet and ankles a break from my dominatrix-heeled shoes. You’ve lost a lot of weight, my running friend Lauren remarked last night, and I was openly happy with her observation because three weeks ago before I started Insanity, I have been having nightmares of checking into a fat farm. So I say ‘oh maybe it’s running or maybe it’s the fact that I’m happy, well, happy-ish.’ Sometimes, like last night on my way to Coffee Bean to meet up with her, I watch old people sitting outside Gloria Jeans and some bars, I see some of them, still flaunting cleavage, still bearing radiant smiles despite their age, and I can’t help but think to myself that maybe if I fold in my edges, or remember to always sit with my back straight, maybe if I start wearing sunblock on my face and exposed body parts and not stare directly into the sun, or maybe if I do NOT let disappointment and frustration show in the corners of my mouth, maybe I will escape getting old and wrinkly.

Maybe I will be the only person to be always young.

Being happy-ish is somewhat different from being happy. It’s somewhere near the happy alley and it’s still a lovely feeling, don’t get me wrong. But at the same time, I’m aware, always, alarmingly, aware that this happy-ish state will end and that shortly, maybe in the near offing I will be sad again. Well, not sad, but sad-ish. I bought flowers last night just before the mall closed and they were white and yellow and very pretty. I took them with me, softly whispering into their petals about what I hoped they’d bring to my tiny space across the street. About how I wanted to be the sort of person who bought flowers for themselves and put them up and I’d always have flowers because having beautiful flowers shows you’re the kind of person who does things like that on impulse. And when I got home I put them into a ceramic coffee mug half-filled with tap water because I don’t have a decent flower vase and tried to make them look pretty. And when I was quite satisfied with the way they crowded the ill-sized mug, I smiled and thought maybe I’m a flower person after all. Just as I was a fish person when I had Humpy the Flowerhorn and Toti and Friends, my playful Oscar fishes, four years ago. Just as I was a dog person when I had Fido the mongrel and Tiny the Doberman, years ago.

To have and to hold.

Boracay this weekend has somewhat freed me of encumbrances of the emotional kind. Fairly soon this erratic mood swings will end and I will once again be I-don’t-really-know-what-I-will-be but the point is, maybe I shouldn’t be adding another maybe to my list, and instead make room for none at all. Perhaps I should just let stars explode behind my eyelids. Yes, I should allow this to happen without fighting pulse by pulse.

Do you believe in fate, in reincarnation, in karma, do you believe everything happens for a reason, do you believe in the power of the internet, do you believe in dinosaurs, do you believe in coincidences, do you believe in compatibility and meant-to-bes, do you think everything is an accident, do you believe in God or the higher power, do you believe in science, do you believe in free will, do you believe that every action has an equal and opposite reaction, do you believe in sex for sex’s sake, do you believe that there is indeed a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, do you believe a man and a woman can never be “just friends”, do you believe that if you want something badly enough, it’ll happen?

I believe.

In You.

In Us.

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Author: mrsvickyaltaie

Mother to ZO. UltraRunner. Writer. Casual blogger. Yogi wannabe. Passionate about travel, nature, and fashion. Occasionally neurotic. Possibly, undiagnosed bipolar.

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