Blogged Thought

Boredom Leads to Bad Stuff

I'm bored. That's two words, two syllables, and one of the worst feelings in the world.
I sat lazily at one of those black plastic chairs that are most likely to collapse if someone too heavy sat. My mind was blank and I just felt ... Numb.
I was at our church to be exact. On a beautiful Saturday morning, when I'm supposed to be gracefully sleeping 'till ten o'clock. My dad happened to be a full-time pastor in VCF, and he needed to attend activities, may it be simple or important.
And that day, there's an activity that I'm not involved in any part or way, but since our house is really far from our church, and I'm not allowed to be left alone in there, I went with them. With my mom and dad, I mean.

I was sitting on the chair I referred to earlier, which is actually my dad's. My hands slumped on his smooth wooden desk with a long drawer under it, and three piled-up drawers on the side.
The praise and worship just finished, so the musicians and singers were already here at the church's office with me, which was just next to the worship hall.
They were talking about meters and fronts and agreeing with whatever they were talking about, because we happened to have a song leader who was an architect and a teacher at one of the biggest universities at the country.
Basically, I was left out. I did have some things to do, but I wasn't in the mood for it. Memorizing my declamation piece, for example. It was to be performed on stage at our school's chapel, on November twenty-first. And that day was The eighth of November, but I haven't memorized the whole thing yet, which was just one piece of oslo paper long. It was given to me a few weeks ago, but I didn't bother to memorize the whole thing.

Then, the guy I was crushing on for almost a year passed my thoughts. He looked like one of my favorite celebrity, so he was technically gorgeous.
He lived just a few meters from our house, which I only got to know that he existed when I went on the same school with him. And he was about three to four years older than me. We also had the same school bus, but he never seemed to care about me.
He was one of the school's athletes, basketball to be exact. He had a really nice personality too, filthy rich, knows how to play the guitar, and has the most dreamy voice in the world.
And with all those traits, he wasn't a heart throb, a campus crush, or the school's golden boy. In fact, he wasn't a least bit famous. Maybe people are just too blind and busy with their stuff, that they don't really get to see the real beautiful people.
Oh, and he was my best friend's uncle.

I always wanted him to be my friend. Nothing more.
I just loved the way he smiled, like a mixture of the hottest of summers and the coldest of winters, which makes it perfectly warm. The way his hair looked absolutely soft that I had an unending urge to feel it, how his lips looked so pouty and red that I swear if you didn't see his face but his lips, you'd bet your life that he's a girl, how he's so carefree and lets alone the world just the way it is.
But he just doesn't have anything to do with me.
'Cuz hey, I'm not pretty, or slim or anything that would make him look at me. The only thing I have is my brain, which isn't much of a help.
But whatever, love your life, and it will eventually love you.