If romance was a flower, then I'm a leaf.

In the same way that I find humans' severe desire for acquiring romance repelling, many, if not the majority of the population, also question why I don't experience romantic attraction— which would thereby lead to a lot of uncalled-for comments.

One such example of a scenario playing out would be the case of this gentleman standing before me right now.

He has brought out the topic that I may be a lesbian because he couldn't dig up any kind of information regarding my crushes. First of all, the audacity of this mere stranger. Second of all, he didn't even take the effort to verify whether his sources would be reliable. If he had done so, then I shouldn't have had to deal with something this disrespectful. But apparently, according to him, my classmates — which could be considered strangers to me — are a reliable source of information.

What a waste of time.

My History teacher right here loves to poke his nose in other people's business, especially if it concerned teenagers' crushes and love life. Not only does he ship people he can during our class hours while being extremely proud of it, but he also continuously uses the money students' parents paid for his salary to constantly preach about never judging others.

How ironic that the preacher himself is the one who went against what he's preaching.

Oh, well. Life is full of ironies.

Today is just another piece of evidence of that.

As I watched him consistently blabber on his bizarre theory, I wanted to so badly tell him to shut up.

However, doing such a thing to a teacher would be disrespectful, so I must restrain myself.

Even if he were the first one to commit the act of disrespect.

In a desperate attempt, I hastily searched through the thousand books I've read in my memory, both fiction and non-fiction. But my efforts are wasted and I am left to fend off for myself in a scenario I couldn't escape from. If this was a game, I would have quit a long time ago. If this was a book, I wouldn't even finish the first chapter. If this was a poem, I wouldn't have even remembered the title.

Still, it was none of the above.

I sighed, and the man took notice of that. Only God knows how badly I have been restraining myself from explaining what was none of his business. Yet, I wanted to be the bigger person, and I believed that someone so obnoxious doesn't deserve more of my precious time. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion to say:

"Mr. Han, I've lived my whole life in social isolation. That means that I am stigmatized as a loser with no friends. Naturally, it only makes sense if no one knows which amongst the billions of humans on this planet I happen to like. But for someone whose dinner isn't even guaranteed, I assure you that is the least of my concern— if it even is."

"I imagine someone who basked in attention from birth would have a hard time coming to terms with that."

Alas, the thousand practices I constantly replayed in my mind have borne fruit.

With that, I took my leave. The moment I walked past him, the heaviness in my heart was lifted off. It felt as if the thorns pricking my mind suddenly vanished. For once, it felt so liberating. From then on, I never once heard a word from him again.

Our academic days went by normally and every lunch, the group of bad girls would gather up in the center. With the loudest laughs and the loudest voice, they'd fill the whole room with gossip about their new boyfriends. We were all well aware of how much they switched from one man to another like how they switched their clothes. If a lover performed so poorly towards them, we would not only know of their overall appearance but also the size of their genitals.

How terrible it must be to date one of them.

Each time, we kept our mouths shut and no one dared to defy them.

Just like how it's always been in novels and animes. Oh well, fiction is a reflection of real life. The human mind's fantasies stem from experiences.

I wonder how far they can go with their arrogance.

Everywhere I go, I perceive couples so terribly in love that they can't keep their hands from each other. Perhaps, if I had a social circle, the people involved would likely regularly question why I'm still single. A marital status that has yet to change from the moment of my birth. To many, this is ridiculous, and because I've spent my whole life living with people who couldn't think otherwise, I began to understand why.

"You're already eighteen. Surely, there must be someone you're already in love with."

Due to the constant pestering of my cousin, I have mastered the art of dismissing such things. Most of the time, I hang up without even saying a word if she concluded that that was the best introduction of her phone call.

It's not my fault. She just has to work better on her first impressions.

I've read hundreds of books on why humans so badly desire romance and anything related to it to the point that they would discard their intellect. It's practically etched in their DNA from the moment they entered this world. If that were ever the case, conceivably, I may not be human, after all. But we've already come a long way from ignorance. Gone are the days we used to think inferior to the ones who believe and look differently from us.

Humans have been breeding since ancient times and this is what led us to be able to reach heights our ancestors couldn't even fathom in their wildest dreams. Our technology has grown so advanced to the point that some people have fallen in love with what is technically a machine. In fact, even I am guilty of being fond of some 2D characters.

But how can I possibly help myself when Levi Ackerman exists?

Sir, you're asking for the impossible. Be a little more realistic.

***

Today, I was specifically craving chocolates, so I went to the store to buy them. Upon my arrival, I was met with several others who had apparently held a similar appetite for the product. The whole place was packed. Thankfully, my favorite section was still intact, and the white chocolates were peacefully lying there, abundant in nature. Others have always been fond of the brown ones; maybe because they believe true chocolate cannot be otherwise.

As I had the clerk check out my items, she questioned who was the recipient. What a weird question to ask. Did society regress as far as thinking that buying chocolate for yourself was strange?

People have always remarked that I had such soulless eyes that I might as well be dead with my eyes open. My conventional expression consisted of a deadpan face, but I think the lady would laugh at such a comment if someone were ever to mention it to her. Confusion was drawn all over my face, and I tripped over my first few words. It took me a while to piece up a decent reply.

When she heard that a boy would not be receiving a gift today, she gave me a genuine look of pity and told me that there was always a next time.

I did not understand.

Why did she have to look at me like that?

Wandering like a child trapped in a labyrinth, I made my way toward my apartment. On my way there, a gigantic tarpaulin plastered on the tallest hotel in the city greeted me with the words:

Happy Valentine's Day!

Oh, right...

Today wasn't just any other day for many. It was a special day.

Not for me though.

In my case, it was just another regular day. As I submerged myself once more in an abyss of endless thoughts, the trickling drops of rain that fell on my head and shoulders brought me back to reality. Dashing forth in the direction of my destination, I subconsciously used the box of chocolates to shelter me from being damp. Although it had little to no effect, it was efficient for the short while it took for me to get back home.

A wave of relief came washing upon me as soon as I reached my haven. Finally, I was back at the place where I would waste my dear time staring at the ceiling. It wasn't anything fancy. Just a studio apartment and lots of books assembled on the bookshelves I have — although their current state suggested that they wouldn't last any longer.

After switching to my pajamas, I relished myself in the comfort of leisurely eating the chocolates I bought while reading in my window seat. The downpour acted as background noise to the deafening silence my place has to offer. Were it not for it, surely I'd be left with the stillness that would sometimes drive me crazy.

Leaning against the curtains, a drop of tear fell from my eyes. With a heavy heart, I cried myself that night.

Q: What do you think is the reason she cried? Do you think some kind of tragic past is involved and we'll learn of it in the next chapter?

Author's Notes commented inline here ➵