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 waiting to give it to someone who takes care of it and deserves it.

She just wants to be a woman just like everybody else. A good friend. An ultimate cheerleader. A partner in life in all aspects.

Time has passed and she grew anxious. 

Pursuits don't mean anything if she doesn't have someone to share it with. She asked God why it takes a long time and she waits for the answer like a tree waiting for the rain.

Perhaps, her love story is either too simple. One step one day, changes the rest of the story. Or perhaps a complicated one that involves a mystery and thrilling plot, and in the end, boils down to the character she met at the beginning of the story.

She wears a smile, a band aid in her heart. Will she be a pole forever drenched with the same old melancholy?