For those of you who happen to read this post tonight, this is the brightest you'll ever see the moon for the next few years to come. Maybe decades. I was sitting the bus on the way home from a late DG meeting and gazing at her beauty (a good fifteen minutes) before RJ and Jeremiah messaged me to confirm that the moon tonight was indeed the spectacle I had regarded it to be.
I saw her again today. She looked absolutely radiant. And she smiled at me too. +) A slightly embarrassed smile, but a smile nonetheless. And you want to know how God plays jokes on people? Let me tell you. It's the 4th time this semester that I've seen her, and probably the 3nd time she's noticed me, at least from what I can tell. And every time, I'm looking like my ugliest, tired-est, stupidest self. Most other days when I look better, she's never there. Maybe it's a psychological thing. But the fact that I was wearing specs on all three occasions only affirms the possibility of divine humor. I oh so want to slap myself.
One thing got me pent up though. Maybe she was wearing it some time ago, and I didn't notice it, but I noticed it today. A ring on her left hand, third finger. Doesn't that symbolize a certain engagement, or decision to belong to another? Sigh. Is it simply coincidental, or are you trying to tell me something, knowing that I'll be at the booth today at that time? Well, whatever it is, I hope things are going well between the two of you. In a way, I might never know how God answers my prayers every night. I wish I did, but I'm sure God withholds answers from me for a good reason.
The moon tonight just reminds me of you in so many, many ways.
First, it is a brilliant white, my favorite color, and one that has come to firmly represent you.
Second, it looks like a perfect circle, like the perfect figure that you possess.
Third, it is smooth, like your skin, flawless and ideal.
Fourth, it shines so bright, like your unmistakable smile that catches all eyes even from afar.
Fifth, its rare appearance sets the tone for the frequency of which I get to see a glimpse of you.
Sixth, it captivates and captures attention, like you whom I find it so hard to tear my mind off.
Seventh, its beauty is God's showmanship, like yours which represents a beauty which can only come from a divine architect.
Eight, it symbolically partners the Sun, like in the mythologies of every ancient civilization, and not a mere human being like me, whose person is so... insignificant.
Ninth, it rises above the skyscrapers and far from reach, like you are, so near, yet so far.
Tenth, it is known to cause people who stare at it too long to go crazy, hence the term "lunatic", which aptly defines the illness which I am suffering from.
So many more. But I've just completed an hour of "lunatic" running around my neighborhood area, so much of the frustration has temporarily given way to mental exhaustion. Blame it on the new song I just wrote that kept playing in my mind during the entire run. Some of the lyrics literally reminded me of wolves howling at the moon as fatigue and lactic acid set in.
The Love Movement has already started in the forum! If you have time please go take a look. I was assigned to massaging people in the morning at the "Physical Touch" section, but for some reason I just found it... weird. Massaging guys I mean. And having to ask female students, "Hi, would you like a free massage?" After considering how perverted I probably sounded, despite using my most innocent voice, I kinda gave up. And looking around gave me time to rethink and make more specific (and complicated) the love languages in my own life.
Material Gifts:
This is my dad's primary love language. He's always buying everyone in my family gifts, and it took me a long time to get use to it. Even till today, I find it a little heart-wrenching when he spends extravagant sums of money on gifts for me (it somehow doesn't affect me one bit if he spends on my mum), but most of the little precious things in my life are bought by him. It is my love language for people I can't and/or don't want to get too close to.
Acts of Service:
This is my mum's primary love language. Having been a housewife for most of my childhood, and an enthusiastic and dedicated nurse by profession, this love language has impacted me more than I actually imagined. I actually find myself getting slightly irritated having to do an act of service for people I don't feel close to at all (The singular exception is when I'm doing community service). On the opposite end of the spectrum, this love language is effortless, and actually makes me feel warm and fuzzy and loved, if accepted by those whom I love.
Quality Time:
This is a love language that I'm most familiar with, simply because it's how my parents see love. Wanting to reciprocate their love in every way, I've learned how to devote attention and sensitivity, make time to be with them so that they'll know I love them so much, and that I want to make them happy in every way possible. It's my "most improved" love language, one that did not come naturally, but learned through a library of self-help books, experiences and try-an-errors.
Words of Affirmation:
This is my primary giving/receiving love languages, one that I find myself using with timeless enthusiasm, while consciously holding back the negative, discouraging stuff. Writing is a huge passion of mine, be it stories or songs. Singing to cheer others up makes me happy. Encouraging others while running gives me boundless energy when I should be dead tired. Inspiring others to work harder with speeches and pep talks motivates me too. Sweet nothings should be an art for men, not a survival strategy. I also strongly believe in doing what you say, unless you meant it as a joke. It has also come to a revelation that because of that, the words from people whom I love, I take very seriously and as the truth, which often leads to the deepest wounds at the expense of my self-esteem.
Physical Touch:
This is my primary receiving love language, and like words of affirmation, something that my parents hardly provided. Because of the cultural norms, touching guys (or receiving it) has more or less been relegated to the court or the field, and touching (or receiving touch from) girls have been... non-existent. The very deprivation of it, and because I refuse to put myself in situations where any is possible, creates a horrible craving that somehow eats the soul from within, and increases sensitivity so much so that any accidental contact, especially from the opposite gender, brings a reaction that would embarrass the millipede. This makes it so much so that I've relegated this love language as something to give only to a special someone. The example that when she's clinging on to my arm and nuzzling her head into my chest, I can conquer the world (and absolutely no doubts at all) just testifies to the forced and unnatural demotion of so powerful a love language.
In my best sociology essay voice: This short excerpt of limited word count (and brain juice) has endeavored to provide a few examples of how complicated love languages are through the additional inputs of selectivity within overlapping circles of relationships, the restrictions of cultural norms, the consideration of self-propelled learning, individual histories, and context-based situations. However, in conclusion it can be established that the individual's primacy of love languages are greatly determined by the very ones that have been most often bestowed or neglected upon the individual on him/herself in life i.e. the ones that we crave most are the ones that we receive the least, and the ones that we give most are the ones that we've been trained/forced/socialized to give because of high frequency demanded from us.
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