Familiar Melancholy
She is that one pole always standing up. Bright but Alone. Amongst her friends, she has always been constant at being single. Always solo. A Table for one. To most, she is a strong woman. A woman who is secure in herself. To some, she is weird. She has ideas wrapped with silk cloth, ideas with spikes coming through the delicate stillness of silk. To others, she's nonchalant. She has too high standards, some even unrealistic. But who is she really? She also asked herself. Why does it end even before it begins? She is a woman of irony. Firm but subjective. Strong but weak. Loving yet unexpressive. Her prayers included someone since she's sixteen. She wants someone to be the definition of love to her. "Is that so hard to procure?", she muttered. Sometimes, she's dense. Most of the time, she's unassuming. She learned the hard way that expectations lead to greater disappointments. She looks composed yet her heart is fragile. She's
