A Change In Perspective

I saw her yesterday at church. I remotely remembered the things that she had on, a long skirt — the one that falls down to your ankles — with several layers of clothing on the upper part of her body. Her outfit was clearly mismatched and on the top of her head she donned a worn out gray bucket hat. It wasn’t her outfit that I had paid attention to however — even if it did scream out to me when I saw her  —  it was the expression on her face that was much more memorable.

Dragging her feet up the stony steps as I turned around to look at her, my first thought regarding her appearance was that “she looks so sad.” Now she wasn’t old or elderly, if I had to guess, she was only in her late 30s. But the expression on her face —  which was something akin to pain, sorrow, and regret — made her face looked that much older. 

Because we were strangers I couldn’t exactly walk up to her and ask her if everything was alright; so I just let my curiosity go and opened the door, holding it for a few seconds in order for her to enter first (a habit of mine whenever I see someone behind me). She didn’t say anything when she passed, just looked up at me, nod once, and proceeded to enter the building. As the mass went on, I totally forgot about her until the time when the priest took his last steps out the door. As I was opening the door to leave, I again held it wide for the person behind me and was pretty surprise when I saw the same woman walking out with her hat in her hands. Scooting off to the side to let her pass — I expected the another nod from her but this time, she fully turned to me as small smile graced her lips.

“I forgot to say thank you earlier so thank you and thank you again. It’s really the small things that matters isn’t it?”

That’s what she told me before she walked away. I didn’t know what to say so I just smiled and gave her a nod. She never looked back but I know she was right. It’s the small things that really make a big difference. Doing things like opening doors or saying “good morning” to your neighbor — no matter how small the task, as long as it makes the another person smile, it will make everything feel worthwhile.

When you talk to someone for a couple of days — out of friendliness — only for it to change after a while. They start acting flirty, over complimenting you, and expect you to do it back when you only want to be friends. It’s even more awkward when you don’t have the heart to tell them to stop, so you just give then subtle hints and hope they will leave you alone. Then afterwards, when you pass by them in the hall, you can’t help but feel guilty when they turn their head away from you; knowing that nothing will ever be the same again.

Are the ones who suddenly come back into your life when you feel like everything is going right. When you’re on top of the world, when you are recognized for some kind of attention. Most of the time, it’s whenever you’re most successful. They come back after a long period of not talking to you, cling onto your arms, and put on an award worthy performance of being your closest friends. Yet in times of trouble and predicaments, they’re the ones who’ll run away the fastest and ignore you like you’re a contagious plague. They leave you with a wave saying “good luck” and some even have the nerve to walk pass you, acting like they’ve never met you at all. Those are the kind of people, not even considered “friends”, who you don’t need around. 

I think that there is a difference between waiting and being patient. Stranded on an island, I will not wait for a ship to come. I will build a boat and paddle away, and I will be patient. Taking each stroke with care, knowing that it won’t be easy and it will take a while. But I’d rather die trying than sit in one spot. It is the one thing that is the best about me, but also the worst. Maybe one day I will realize that I won’t make it to safety, drain out my energy, and collapse into the water. But that’s what I call a journey.

I would like to go camping with my significant other. We would drive to the camping ground early in the morning and spend the whole day just fooling around in the wide evergreen. We could fish. We could hike. We could play in the clean stream of the river as the sun ride low on the horizon, blessing us with its warm, orange glow of the afternoon. Once night time hits, we would build a campfire and roast the cliche marshmallows. We would lay down on the ground, next to the warmth of the fire, and count the numerous stars that rests upon the bed of the night sky. After a while, when we’re finally tired, we would finally retreat to our tent and cuddle until the sun goes up again.

I feel lost. There are so many thoughts rotating inside my head yet I can’t seem to make sense of any of them. Whenever I try to write them down, I loose all thought process and my mind goes blank as if I was a white board and someone’s erased my jumbled colored ink. I hate whenever I’m like this, I can’t stand it.

The people who treats you like you’re invisible until they want something specific from you. The people who tells you they care yet you know for certain that they don’t give a crap about how you are or how your day is going. I hate being the second option and even more, I hate the feeling of being used. So if you are those type of people, stop the crappy pretense cause I don’t need any fake friends in my life.

In english class we’re reading the book “Of Mice and Men” and we were discussing the men’s perspective on Curley’s wife. If you haven’t read it, Curley’s wife is basically judged on her appearance. She wears revealing clothing and wears makeup, so the men on the farm all labeled her as a “tramp.”

The discussion was base on our perspective of who Curley’s wife was. Was she really a tramp for putting on make-up and wearing flow-y dresses? The argument went back and forth but this was my teacher’s contribution to the debate.

“You can’t label Curley’s wife for being a tramp just because she wants to look pretty. I mean, I see girls out in the hallway and their outfits could use a little more fabric to them. But of course, I don’t judge. What do I know right? Maybe their family is in crisis so they don’t have enough money to buy more fabric to cover themselves up! I don’t know~ Or maybe little termites hang themselves on the bottom of their shirt, that’s why the shirts never cover the girl’s belly! Again, I don’t know, I’m just guessing here.”

All I have to say is that that class was incredibly entertaining!