Entry ? - August 2012

Some say I am fussy when it comes to matters of men and women but I would like to think myself merely conscientious. I’m still whole of mind and as a girl of 21, I am inclined to postulate that my belief comes not from childish arrogance but a mature frame of mind.

Standards exist and are made so that one can measure oneself and those around accordingly. Oftentimes, I come across as snobbish based on my assumed single status whilst others would speculate on the absence of my personality.

I’m proud to say that none of the above would account for my reclusive nature and love for the solitary. It would be a lie, however, to say that I do not yearn for companionship as the world is made that way. I am no different from the damsels around me. I know love when I see one and I envy those who have it, though I am not given to fits of impulsiveness and the need to get a lover for appearance sake is something I’ll never resort to. I have no wish to rush into an undesirable relationship that would only bring heartbreak and pain. I would rather wait for my better half (how corny can I be?). This I speak not from prideful vanity but truthfulness and yearning of the soul.

I wish there was a sign that points to my nebulous future but where would the fun be if my future has already been laid out. Living would no longer be a challenge but a definite bore.

The short story below describes the aforementioned paragraph and summarizes my thoughts:

Once upon a time, there was a young, lovely girl with absinthe eyes and fiery red hair. The girl was crying by her mother’s gravestone when a scraggly old woman approached her.“ Oh, you poor thin’. A pretty lass like you should not look like death itself.”

The girl quickly dried her tears with the sleeve of her gown and silently stared at the apparition before her whom she assumed wanted to give comfort. She found herself softening a little, if not entirely. “ I thank you for your kind words but may I ask who you are and what you seek in so desolate a place?”

The old woman who stood paces away, hobbled closer on her wooden cane and smiled at the girl who has not moved an inch from her mother’s grave. “ I am called witch, healer and sage amongst other things but I go by the name of Wise Woman of Westwood.” The girl gave no sign of recognition, so the wise woman pressed on, “I am here to bestow you a gift of happiness and should you choose to accept it the choice is yours and yours alone.”

At that, the girl stood up and look into the intense gray of the wise woman’s eyes. “ What is it in for you as it is for me?” She folded her hand in front her and continued to appraise the lone figure.

“It is not in my place to tell you of the intricate nature of the universe but in time, you will unravel these mysteries. Even though I do not have the gift of foretelling, I am fortunately prescient enough to know that your road to happiness is a thorny and long one.” The girl flinched at her fortune being told by this wise woman but urged her to continue.

“I can lift your sorrows and give you happiness here and now but be forewarned that whatever given must be returned. You will lead a blissful and youthful life; and suffer when you become a gray-haired woman.” The wise woman paused to let her words sink in. “ So, have your pick. Would you care to go through another series of pain and heartbreak only to have your happily ever after towards the end of your life or enjoy the happiness I give you while you can and suffer in the aftermath.”

Everything was quiet save for her own uneven breathing and the wise woman’s. “ I choose,” she licked her cracked lips, “to pretend that this conversation never happened. I must decline your generous offer, even if this might be the grief that is speaking but I would rather create my own destiny than to leave it to the whims of fate and magic.” For a moment or two, the girl thought that she had offended the wise one. She studied the old woman but the woman’s expression did not alter.

When all of a sudden the wise woman burst out into gales of laughter, startling her. “So be it. I wish you a merry good luck then, for you’ll never see me again!” The old woman disappeared as instantaneous as she had appeared and the girl was once again alone.

As she was walking down the winding gravel path to the graveyard gates, she heard a soft whisper in the air. “ Let’s see you don’t regret it.” That was the last and only trace that the wise woman ever existed.