The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Love (1)
Sometimes you just have to let it all out. Take a breather, and breathe.
Volume One: Love
The teenage years. The "wild" days of everybody’s life. The moment of anticipation where one girl becomes a woman in a matter of twelve months.
The time where we fall in love.
"WE," meaning most girls anyway. You see, somewhere out there is a 70 kg girl with average height, who tries to think differently. "Love?" She asks, "What’s that?"
Maybe it has to do with her belief that "love" doesn’t exist. Maybe it has to do with the fact that she had fallen far low for many guys despite her young age.
Maybe it has to do with the very little self-esteem she was born with, that causes her to try to forget.
But forget about what?
Who knows.
Let’s call me, "Tracy."
I’m seventeen years old, happily turning eighteen in approximately two months. There’s actually nothing to be happy about when you turn eighteen, except for the huge pressure you get from society once you become an ‘adult’ - decide on a career, go to college, get a job… settle down. Huh, big word.
But today let me start about love... How many guys has it been, you wonder? You’d think by now I had at least two, maybe three boyfriends in my lifetime. I mean, come on. Right?
But nope. Let me tell you in a straight note. Not even one.
It’s not that I wasn’t asked. They were getting there.
The problem was that I never gave them the chance.
******************************************************************************************
Two years ago, I met a guy named Aaron when I was a freshman. We were in the same business class, and hopeless as I was, I leaned into my seatmate for help. It was him.
I never once saw him in that way, but only as a friend. He was a good guy, but I couldn’t see "us" that way at all - being in a relationship. But I knew. Somehow I knew, that he was starting to look at me that way. So the next year, whenever he comes near me, I would call him "bro," or "family" or any other names that gives a subtle warning - "I’m not interested."
The guy didn’t take the hint, however. On Valentine’s Day he gave me a rose. I panicked, so immediately I handed it to my best friend, who had the stupid idea to show it around her class - the same class he was in.
Afterwards, he never dare talk to me. I didn’t blame him.
******************************************************************************************
The same year, three months later - the same thing happened.
This guy’s name was Jeff.
Jeff was somebody I didn’t know before, someone I never thought existed, one who goes into the same Alma mater. He was a friend of a friend, and he recently introduced himself to me. We became good friends, and before long some of my other friend have told me that he has had a crush on me for quite a while now. I was quite baffled. I just met the guy, and I didn’t know much about him.
And we’ve just become friends.
I wasn’t ready for this.
So a stupid thought came to me like a thunderbolt.
"Why not make a fake Facebook profile, put a cute picture of a guy, and pretend that he was your boyfriend?" My stupid head said to me.
Well, my stupid self was desperate, and I went through with it.
Little by little, he started staying away from me. I was quite saddened by it, actually. He was a good friend.
The thing was, I hated myself for doing such cruel things to shut down a guy, before he could get a chance to ask me out. But I was afraid, so very afraid.
I was a coward.
I didn’t have any intention of dating them, but I didn’t have the balls to tell them straight up.
Funny, how each of them got a girlfriend afterwards. Compensation from the Heavens, I guess.
They’re still together even until now.
******************************************************************************************
Now, I think karma just got me. This guy’s name is Rey (different name, of course.) I’m in my senior year by this point, and he was in my Gym class. He was interesting.
At first he looked quite plain, and his habit of wearing short khakis just made him look shorter. Nothing about him struck at all, and then I started getting to know him.
In Gym class, I would start noticing the way he runs - how he could have run past everybody, but instead he would stay in the end and wait for his friend. The way his eyes lightened and his dimple deepened when someone told him something funny, and his obsession of weird facts.
After getting my number one day, the first thing he texted was, "Did you know that the platypus is the most vicious mammal on earth?"
Whoever asked that?
I didn’t know how long I laughed after reading his text message. He was the only guy who, instead of saying ‘Hi,’ or ‘Hello,’ he went straight with his fact.
I think it was the very first time I’ve smiled like that for a text.
Before I continue with my story, let me tell you something.
I was very insecure of my weight. I wasn’t obese, but I do have quite a belly to boot. I’m 5’6, and my weight isn’t something I’m proud of. Because of my insecurity, I always tell myself that I’m not good enough for anyone that I have to look better first, that they deserve someone better.
This may just be the first time I’ll ever regret that decision.
I liked the guy, I really did.
I remembered him coming near my side, we’d say "hello." When I looked down, he’s asked me if I were alright. He would always make me laugh, and although we both had a separate group of friends, the text messages were what kept us together. And then my reality came in.
"Stop." "You’re not good enough." "He deserves better." "Why not try to look prettier first?"
Afterwards I didn’t text him anymore. It had been eleven days now. My eyes would search for him, but my body stays away. It’s sad you know, how things work. Just when you think you were happy, you start screwing things up.
He was really a great guy, and he does deserve better. Better than some sad excuse of a girl like myself.
Today, I texted him. He didn’t reply.
We never saw each other again. The end.
******************************************************************************************
You know, I’ve realized something. No, it’s not that I’m dirt - I already know that. I realized that you should take the opportunity when it presents itself to you. Things and people, will never be there forever. Take the chance, and don’t let insecurity get in your way.
Who knows if I’ll ever meet him again someday? He could have been an amazing boyfriend, an amazing husband. Who knows, if I’ll ever meet another guy and then go through my pathetic act once again. This time, things will be different.
I’ll work hard.
I’ll work out. I’ll eat healthy. I’ll look good.
And I’ll be kind.
Who knows, things just might be different this time.
Right?
The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Love
Re: The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Love
The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Future (2)
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Author's Note
Welcome back! 'The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old' will focus on different aspects of life: Love, Future, Friends, Relationships, and everything else, in the perspective of 17-year-old Tracy.
Each category will have their own part. The first chapter was focused on love, the second chapter (this one) will be focusing on Future. All the categories will be revisited again, hence the number on the title. So, without further interruptions, Read on!
******************************************************************************************
Volume Two: Future
I was watching a cat.
Unlike the other furry fat friends whose mere desires are the comfort of an armchair or a leather couch, this cat was outside. Its furry white tail flew left and right as it walked around the middle of my family's garden.
This wasn't even our cat.
I could imagine its owner looking for it right now, going bonkers when he or she couldn't find her furry white feline standing on the doorway as it always did. This cat was not sitting inside the four enclosed walls as others cats would do. This cat was outside, venturing the unknown.
From inside the house, I saw it walk around the greenery, looking at each and every flower its little buggy eyes could see. The cat was happy. It probably won't be content by just going outside today.
This cat would probably come outside again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.
Freedom. Contentment. Future.
The cat bit was not something I planned to write about, as you could tell - I wanted to talk about the ugly, undesirable word that scares the bejesus out of every senior high school student, one week before graduation. But the cat was something else, I guess. Okay, let's stop talking about the cat. I'm a dog person anyway.
Two days ago, I was sitting inside my Physics class. It was free time, as the teacher decided we were finally done with the course earlier than expected. We had a week left of school, but she decided not to do anything for now.
Across from me was a girl named Julia. Julia was the 'promised one' - the girl in your comic book who holds the key that can save the entire world, she was the girl people so desperately wanted to hate but couldn't. She was the main character of every main character. Julia was good in everything - academically, socially and even in sports. The girl wasn't a goody-goody either. I was quite surprised when she argued with a teacher one time for being unfair to another classmate. The girl had balls, and everyone knew. She could even crack jokes too, though her puns weren't that good. We laughed anyway.
Well, that day, bored as I was I called her name out. She looked at me with her long black hair and her circular glasses. "Yes, Tracy?"
I thought for a moment what I wanted to ask. I really hadn't planned well. So I winged it.
"Julia, what are you taking... after you know... high school?"
She looked at me with that smile that she shows to everyone. Without any awkward pauses or hesitation, she answered me. "I'm thinking of getting my Bachelor in Biochemical Science then... I want to be a Biology teacher."
"...Oh."
Afterwards the bell rang, and I walked my way to the familiar lunch table where I met all my friends. I arrived first, and none of them had made their way yet. So I spent the time thinking.
"A Biology teacher?" I thought. "What the hell?"
When she first mentioned that she would get her foot in Biochemical Science, I thought this girl wanted to be in the field of becoming a scientist. And it could have been actually possible if it was her. The girl got the brains for it.
But a teacher?
How many times in your life had a teacher whined about their salary? It could have been a slip-up, or a motivational speech about aiming higher, but either way a teacher's salary wasn't something people would aim for.
And that girl - version of Einstein wanted to be a measly teacher. She could have been Einstein.
But what I'll never forget in our conversation is when she decided to bring the question back to me.
"Tracy, what about you? Where are you going?"
No response.
A silent gurgle, then finally some words.
"I... I actually don't know yet."
I felt low, I guess. Actually, I already had everything planned out myself. I've already been accepted for an Electrical Engineering Course at an amazing college known for their alumni who graduated and had been racking up money since then.
But why could I tell her?
Is it because I felt a sense of guilt that someone like me planned to be a big shot Engineer, while a girl in her level chose to be a public civil servant?
"The girl had amazing potential!" I thought. Being a teacher could have been good, but I thought she would aim higher. Much, much higher.
Then it hit me.
The girl never had pride in her. She had passion... Passion.
The passion to teach others. The passion to allow someone else to grow.
That was her future - to become one hell of an amazing teacher that will push her students to realize their own potentials.
What about me?
HAH.
I only wanted to be in that career because my father was one. And he wanted me to become one.
So I will be one.
That was it. Or so I thought.
Something came over me after that conversation. I never actually wanted to be an Engineer. I loved hands-on work, the Physics and the Math were something I was alright with. But there was something else I wanted much more.
Take a guess.
Yep. That's right.
It was writing. It was talking. It was communicating.
It was Journalism.
All along I've used my vocal cords to fight for what I thought was right. Debates were something I've loved dearly, and writing? Writing brought me to a whole dimension. A different reality. Another Life.
It was also writing that taught the world everything.
Journalism was my main goal all along. I knew, partially, that I had potential in the area. But I was scared... Scared to let my father down. He was quite known in the field, and although he had four daughters, I was the one he thought had potential.
I cannot lie when I say I did have quite a brain, but I wanted to use it for something else.
Afterwards I had a long talk with the two big shots - my parents. Of course they were hesitant, but they probably knew as well.
So there it was - my own future. I decided to leave the year off after high school, as I was too late to apply for Journalism at the University. I didn't mind though. I do not think I could bear sitting alongside people who aspired to be engineers. I despise to be the odd one out.
So I want to be a journalist. It would be a four-year course, five years including the year off. But I'll do it. I know I can.
I realized that there was no point in beating around the bush when it comes to the future. You have to decide on it with your own hands. Expect hardships and failure, but as well know... there is no easy way to success. To fulfillment. To contentment and self-desire.
If I could only repeat my conversation with Julia, here is what I will say.
"Julia, you know what I want to be? A journalist. I want to be a journalist."
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Author's Note
Welcome back! 'The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old' will focus on different aspects of life: Love, Future, Friends, Relationships, and everything else, in the perspective of 17-year-old Tracy.
Each category will have their own part. The first chapter was focused on love, the second chapter (this one) will be focusing on Future. All the categories will be revisited again, hence the number on the title. So, without further interruptions, Read on!
******************************************************************************************
Volume Two: Future
I was watching a cat.
Unlike the other furry fat friends whose mere desires are the comfort of an armchair or a leather couch, this cat was outside. Its furry white tail flew left and right as it walked around the middle of my family's garden.
This wasn't even our cat.
I could imagine its owner looking for it right now, going bonkers when he or she couldn't find her furry white feline standing on the doorway as it always did. This cat was not sitting inside the four enclosed walls as others cats would do. This cat was outside, venturing the unknown.
From inside the house, I saw it walk around the greenery, looking at each and every flower its little buggy eyes could see. The cat was happy. It probably won't be content by just going outside today.
This cat would probably come outside again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.
Freedom. Contentment. Future.
The cat bit was not something I planned to write about, as you could tell - I wanted to talk about the ugly, undesirable word that scares the bejesus out of every senior high school student, one week before graduation. But the cat was something else, I guess. Okay, let's stop talking about the cat. I'm a dog person anyway.
Two days ago, I was sitting inside my Physics class. It was free time, as the teacher decided we were finally done with the course earlier than expected. We had a week left of school, but she decided not to do anything for now.
Across from me was a girl named Julia. Julia was the 'promised one' - the girl in your comic book who holds the key that can save the entire world, she was the girl people so desperately wanted to hate but couldn't. She was the main character of every main character. Julia was good in everything - academically, socially and even in sports. The girl wasn't a goody-goody either. I was quite surprised when she argued with a teacher one time for being unfair to another classmate. The girl had balls, and everyone knew. She could even crack jokes too, though her puns weren't that good. We laughed anyway.
Well, that day, bored as I was I called her name out. She looked at me with her long black hair and her circular glasses. "Yes, Tracy?"
I thought for a moment what I wanted to ask. I really hadn't planned well. So I winged it.
"Julia, what are you taking... after you know... high school?"
She looked at me with that smile that she shows to everyone. Without any awkward pauses or hesitation, she answered me. "I'm thinking of getting my Bachelor in Biochemical Science then... I want to be a Biology teacher."
"...Oh."
Afterwards the bell rang, and I walked my way to the familiar lunch table where I met all my friends. I arrived first, and none of them had made their way yet. So I spent the time thinking.
"A Biology teacher?" I thought. "What the hell?"
When she first mentioned that she would get her foot in Biochemical Science, I thought this girl wanted to be in the field of becoming a scientist. And it could have been actually possible if it was her. The girl got the brains for it.
But a teacher?
How many times in your life had a teacher whined about their salary? It could have been a slip-up, or a motivational speech about aiming higher, but either way a teacher's salary wasn't something people would aim for.
And that girl - version of Einstein wanted to be a measly teacher. She could have been Einstein.
But what I'll never forget in our conversation is when she decided to bring the question back to me.
"Tracy, what about you? Where are you going?"
No response.
A silent gurgle, then finally some words.
"I... I actually don't know yet."
I felt low, I guess. Actually, I already had everything planned out myself. I've already been accepted for an Electrical Engineering Course at an amazing college known for their alumni who graduated and had been racking up money since then.
But why could I tell her?
Is it because I felt a sense of guilt that someone like me planned to be a big shot Engineer, while a girl in her level chose to be a public civil servant?
"The girl had amazing potential!" I thought. Being a teacher could have been good, but I thought she would aim higher. Much, much higher.
Then it hit me.
The girl never had pride in her. She had passion... Passion.
The passion to teach others. The passion to allow someone else to grow.
That was her future - to become one hell of an amazing teacher that will push her students to realize their own potentials.
What about me?
HAH.
I only wanted to be in that career because my father was one. And he wanted me to become one.
So I will be one.
That was it. Or so I thought.
Something came over me after that conversation. I never actually wanted to be an Engineer. I loved hands-on work, the Physics and the Math were something I was alright with. But there was something else I wanted much more.
Take a guess.
Yep. That's right.
It was writing. It was talking. It was communicating.
It was Journalism.
All along I've used my vocal cords to fight for what I thought was right. Debates were something I've loved dearly, and writing? Writing brought me to a whole dimension. A different reality. Another Life.
It was also writing that taught the world everything.
Journalism was my main goal all along. I knew, partially, that I had potential in the area. But I was scared... Scared to let my father down. He was quite known in the field, and although he had four daughters, I was the one he thought had potential.
I cannot lie when I say I did have quite a brain, but I wanted to use it for something else.
Afterwards I had a long talk with the two big shots - my parents. Of course they were hesitant, but they probably knew as well.
So there it was - my own future. I decided to leave the year off after high school, as I was too late to apply for Journalism at the University. I didn't mind though. I do not think I could bear sitting alongside people who aspired to be engineers. I despise to be the odd one out.
So I want to be a journalist. It would be a four-year course, five years including the year off. But I'll do it. I know I can.
I realized that there was no point in beating around the bush when it comes to the future. You have to decide on it with your own hands. Expect hardships and failure, but as well know... there is no easy way to success. To fulfillment. To contentment and self-desire.
If I could only repeat my conversation with Julia, here is what I will say.
"Julia, you know what I want to be? A journalist. I want to be a journalist."
Re: The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Love
The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Encounter (3)
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Volume Three: Encounter
Do you believe in coincidences? Or do you think that every little thing that happens in your life, every little detail... happens for a reason?
I curse the day, my past self-swore never to love again. Why? Because I know I'm lying to myself.
Today, I went to the coffee shop I work at, believing that today would be just like any other day. But suddenly, it hit me. As I served the customer in front of me, it took a while to realize who the man in front of me was-
My first love.
I remember when I first set my eyes on him - I was a child of eight years, I believe. I remember sitting in front of this tall, odd-looking boy, who I see nothing more than a hindrance to my view of the board.
I wobbled my head back and forth, hoping he would get a clue.
Lucky enough, he did.
He turned around, and then he gave me one of his boyish grins, as if telling me that he actually knew of my struggles and was only toying with me.
"Let's switch!" He said enthusiastically, and at that moment, at THAT exact moment - I thought, "He's not such a bad guy after all."
We started talking after that. His name was Jake. Little Jake likes to play basketball with his friends, soccer if there are more people, and he's mortified with spiders. His family was on the brink of divorce at that time, but I remembered clearly what he said to me.
"I wish I didn't exist. Maybe then they wouldn't have to put up with each other."
Afterwards, I smiled as I recalled what the eight-year-old me with pigtails - did try to comfort him.
I cried.
I cried for the boy in front of me, who only smiles in front of people. I cried for the boy who must be shivering inside but acts strong for others. I cried for the boy, who wishes he wasn't born.
I scolded him after that. I can't recall the exact words I said to him when we were kids, but I do know what he did after listening. With eyes so red, he pulled his tiny arms around me.
For that moment, I became that child's support.
We couldn't talk after that because the next day he was transferred to New York with his mother. It was in 2003, so kids of our age didn't have fancy iPhones, the way they do now. We had no contact with each other, but I knew that if I were to see him again, I'll remember him.
And this morning, I saw him. Standing at around six feet, his black hair was short, compared to the curly ones he had before. The dimple that I used to stare at a lot, was still intact, along with the small birthmark resting on his neck.
He has definitely grown. He was handsome too.
But there's one thing I felt scared about... "What if he doesn't remember me?"
It scared me to confront him, thinking that he might not remember me. I mean, think about it, the last time I saw him was ten years ago. I had ponytails back then.
So politely, I said to him, "Hi there, can I get your order?"
His light blue eyes never laid his eyes on me, but the menu sitting idly on top.
"Just some coffee," he said, "and maybe a croissant."
"That would be $2.20," I said to him, disappointed, "thank you."
However, something else happened.
When I turned around to get his order, something strong grabbed my arm. The coffeehouse was quite empty at the time, so there could only be one.
When I looked, a pair of blue eyes were staring straight to mine. His forehead crunched, and he tilted as if he was trying to fight a voice in his head.
"...Tracy?" He whispered. "Is that you? Do you... remember me?"
At that moment, I thought I was in the movies. I mean, wouldn't this be considered of the cliches? But I didn't care.
I nodded, and afterwards we talked. Jake had come back from New York a month ago to finish university. He decided to come alone, as he could not call his parents who have both decided to remarry.
"I like to believe that every family should be happy," he said to me as he broke his croissant in half to give to me, "but I guess we can't force things. Besides, I like the independence."
I smiled at him. "You haven't changed, you know."
He gave me a smirk, "Neither have you."
No, this isn't a fiction story where we magically end up together.
This is real life.
It turns out that Jake has a girlfriend of two years, and as you know, I prefer not to be in any relationships. But hey, it makes me happy to know that he turned out to be a great guy. I could tell that he was the playboy type, but it feels good that my first love wasn't blaming himself anymore.
And that itself - was magic enough.
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Volume Three: Encounter
Do you believe in coincidences? Or do you think that every little thing that happens in your life, every little detail... happens for a reason?
I curse the day, my past self-swore never to love again. Why? Because I know I'm lying to myself.
Today, I went to the coffee shop I work at, believing that today would be just like any other day. But suddenly, it hit me. As I served the customer in front of me, it took a while to realize who the man in front of me was-
My first love.
I remember when I first set my eyes on him - I was a child of eight years, I believe. I remember sitting in front of this tall, odd-looking boy, who I see nothing more than a hindrance to my view of the board.
I wobbled my head back and forth, hoping he would get a clue.
Lucky enough, he did.
He turned around, and then he gave me one of his boyish grins, as if telling me that he actually knew of my struggles and was only toying with me.
"Let's switch!" He said enthusiastically, and at that moment, at THAT exact moment - I thought, "He's not such a bad guy after all."
We started talking after that. His name was Jake. Little Jake likes to play basketball with his friends, soccer if there are more people, and he's mortified with spiders. His family was on the brink of divorce at that time, but I remembered clearly what he said to me.
"I wish I didn't exist. Maybe then they wouldn't have to put up with each other."
Afterwards, I smiled as I recalled what the eight-year-old me with pigtails - did try to comfort him.
I cried.
I cried for the boy in front of me, who only smiles in front of people. I cried for the boy who must be shivering inside but acts strong for others. I cried for the boy, who wishes he wasn't born.
I scolded him after that. I can't recall the exact words I said to him when we were kids, but I do know what he did after listening. With eyes so red, he pulled his tiny arms around me.
For that moment, I became that child's support.
We couldn't talk after that because the next day he was transferred to New York with his mother. It was in 2003, so kids of our age didn't have fancy iPhones, the way they do now. We had no contact with each other, but I knew that if I were to see him again, I'll remember him.
And this morning, I saw him. Standing at around six feet, his black hair was short, compared to the curly ones he had before. The dimple that I used to stare at a lot, was still intact, along with the small birthmark resting on his neck.
He has definitely grown. He was handsome too.
But there's one thing I felt scared about... "What if he doesn't remember me?"
It scared me to confront him, thinking that he might not remember me. I mean, think about it, the last time I saw him was ten years ago. I had ponytails back then.
So politely, I said to him, "Hi there, can I get your order?"
His light blue eyes never laid his eyes on me, but the menu sitting idly on top.
"Just some coffee," he said, "and maybe a croissant."
"That would be $2.20," I said to him, disappointed, "thank you."
However, something else happened.
When I turned around to get his order, something strong grabbed my arm. The coffeehouse was quite empty at the time, so there could only be one.
When I looked, a pair of blue eyes were staring straight to mine. His forehead crunched, and he tilted as if he was trying to fight a voice in his head.
"...Tracy?" He whispered. "Is that you? Do you... remember me?"
At that moment, I thought I was in the movies. I mean, wouldn't this be considered of the cliches? But I didn't care.
I nodded, and afterwards we talked. Jake had come back from New York a month ago to finish university. He decided to come alone, as he could not call his parents who have both decided to remarry.
"I like to believe that every family should be happy," he said to me as he broke his croissant in half to give to me, "but I guess we can't force things. Besides, I like the independence."
I smiled at him. "You haven't changed, you know."
He gave me a smirk, "Neither have you."
No, this isn't a fiction story where we magically end up together.
This is real life.
It turns out that Jake has a girlfriend of two years, and as you know, I prefer not to be in any relationships. But hey, it makes me happy to know that he turned out to be a great guy. I could tell that he was the playboy type, but it feels good that my first love wasn't blaming himself anymore.
And that itself - was magic enough.