Reality check

I don't know if I should panic. I'm 26 turning 27 this year. Pretty? I think so. Well that's what my friends tell me. Nice to be with? I believe so too. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had friends. How many commitments have I had in my entire existence, you ask? Nada. Next question please.

My mother wondered how this fat, ugly girl in the neighborhood, one with lots of pus oozing out of her face, is able to fish a decent male specie, while her daughter cannot. I wasn't able to voice out to her that had I decreased my standards by ten notches, like that of our neighbor's, my list would have reached North Pole. My mom might have fainted.

I don't long for someone richer than Bill Gates. That's a very hard target. Nor someone as drop dead gorgeous as Brad Pitt. That someone wouldn't notice me. Can it be possible that I'm above an average guy but way below those who are above average? Then I don't belong to someone then. There's no point in waiting. Noone will come.

If you think that wishing for someone who shares the same kind of music, laughs at the same humor, and still finds me beautiful when I'm sick is too much to ask, then, yeah, I admit, I have a very high standard. Maybe I should just stop looking.

I'll kiss reveries goodbye then.