Time is Running Out

It’s already 7:37am and I haven’t slept a wink.  I opted to watch a feel-good film that I haven’t before and so I chose “The Nanny Diaries.”  I haven’t heard any reviews about it, nor was there any buzz about it back when it first came out so I wasn’t really expecting anything spectacular.

Not to say that I was blown away by the movie, but it sure kept me interested.  There was nothing in particular that caught my attention.  Although if I was gonna be utterly honest, I’d have to say I perked up everytime “Harvard Hottie” or Chris Evans came up on screen.  I guess ultimately, what was running through my mind was this:

It’s already April.  It has been 9 months since my last birthday and 3 more until my next.

The thought that dawned upon me and subconsciously haunted me throughout the film though, was this:

I haven’t fallen in love.

Is that a shallow thing to worry about?  I don’t know.  Maybe, maybe not.  But it sure as hell is something that I felt was serious enough to trouble me.

My heart started pumping fast and my eyes swelled up as I realized, my time is running out.  Will I end up an old maid?  Will I never get married?  When will I ever fall in love?  Am I even worthy of making other people fall in love?

God, all these thoughts spinning around my head make me want to vomit.  They make me feel so lonely and hopeless.  Maybe this is enhanced by my hormones as I am a month and a half late from my period, but nevertheless, it is really troubling me.

Three years ago, a good friend pointed out that I was too “intense.”  I was always running after time, always worried about a future that hasn’t happened yet, always desperate to build myself up for a career that I could not identify even now.  I was running in circles, spinning without gravity to hold me back, worrying myself sick because I didn’t know what was out there for me.  When he blurted this out, I realized he was so right.  I was intense.  Too intense, in fact, to function properly … or more accurately, to stay sane.

Eventually, with his help and in his company, I started mellowing down.  I was breathing normally now, not forcing my hair to turn white out of stress.  I learned to take things as they come and to enjoy whatever came my way.  It was like floating in space, without spinning recklessly.  I felt at peace.  And I felt happier.

It was a good break, but leopards don’t change their spots.  Now, with nothing to do and a lot of time in my hands, I am starting to go back to my old habits – being obsessed about “doing something,” worrying about my future, and counting down to the deadlines I once set years ago.  I’m starting to feel frantic and these thoughts just start rushing through my head randomly while I do other things.

It’s starting to drive me crazy, this idea of “Time running out.”

At this moment, this is what I’m obsessing about: THAT I HAVEN’T FALLEN IN LOVE YET.  Time is running out, I’m getting older by the minute and nothing can stop it.  Pretty soon, I’ll be in my mid-twenties, and it would be a nightmare if I still end up alone.

Though I am not currently single, among the guys I have and am dating, I can’t find anyone that I can imagine a future with.  Since breaking up with my long-time “guyfriend” last December, I have become looser in dating.  I have been dating to and fro, any guy who’d ask me out … well, those that I find an inkling of possibility with, and I’d be dating multiple guys at once.  It would be good while it lasts … but I never expect anything would.  And I guess this is my problem: that I’m not doing anything to make the relationship grow.

I thought it’s just “not meant to be,” but maybe I also contributed to it.  Perhaps, I also choose it not to be.

It’s a depressing thought and I just felt my heart sink a few inches from my chest.  But it might be true.  So now I’m faced with the fact that I need and want to fall in love, but I choose not to with the guys who show interest in me. 

My perceptive guy friends have been telling me this for the past few months.  They even chirp out, during our own private little coffee chats, that I “don’t know what I want.”  They find it amusing that I entertain these guys and I like them but I don’t want them.  Nevertheless, I still don’t let them go – either because of selfishness or by the sheer hope that something might eventually spark from it.  Hah, typical.

But come to think of it, I haven’t really regarded their comments seriously.  I just laugh it off, thinking that I may not be that easy to read.  But apparently I am. Two weeks ago, my friend told me that I was “dangerous.”  Such an ominous word for a girl who’s so chirpy all the time.  He explained that this was so because I couldn’t be easily pleased.  You have to get through a complex labyrinth to reach my heart.  And even when you think you’re on the right path, the ground always shifts and my heart disappears from where it was.

An old friend and I had dinner two Saturdays ago when he accompanied me to do my errands.  He told me that guys were naturally drawn to me because I was “affectionate” – not in a slutty way, or so he says, but in a maternal way.  It seems as if a guy is assured that he is well taken care of when he’s with me.  It was a sweet thing to say, and I was really surprised.  But he says that it’s not exactly good.  It gives false comfort to men and he infers that they can never really keep my attention for long.  I’m not sure what to say to this, but I remember feeling my jaw drop as he spoke those words.  I don’t know if they’re true, but I know that the gist of his analysis struck me bad.  I didn’t feel bad, I just felt … read.  Not completely, maybe like a summary.  But it still felt like the same thing.  “Of course,” he added, “it’s always to your advantage.”

But I think not.  You see, even I don’t quite get myself.  Case in point: Right now, I have no idea what I want to do in my life, nor can I imagine what I would be doing in the next few months.  I’m just hoping I get a job that’s pays decently and is respectable.  Realistically speaking, I won’t even aim for a job my friends would covet.  Depressing.

But veering away from the sidelines, I don’t know what I want so I keep on searching until I find it.  I’ve been doing this for a while now, I guess it’s safe to say it’s pretty futile – and time-consuming at that!  Maybe it’s time to take the advice of my wise sister and good friend and take time off to figure out what I really want.  Not only with what I would do but with who I am, who I want to be, and who I want to surround myself with.

My friend tells me to “stop looking for the perfect guy” and look for the “right guy.” It’s a good advice.  But how long would it take for me to actually find the “right guy?”  And in that line of thought … is time really that important?  Or, scratch that, is worrying about time worth it?  It seems the more seconds pass by, the more regrets pile up in the back of my head.

Maybe I’ll never really know.  I’ll only find out in time.  And since it’s running out anyway, it won’t be long until I get my answer.  I’m not saying I’ll wait it out.  But given the fact that I can’t stop time, worrying about it passing by isn’t going to help one bit.  I know I should help myself.  Not only is time running out for me to fall in love, but it is also running out for me to be right enough for the “right guy.”  It’s a two-way street, man, even I have to accept it.

So I guess time will continually fly by no matter what I do.  I just have to do something worthwhile while it passes.  I’ll start by figuring out exactly what I want in life.  Maybe I’ll look to the stars and search for an answer.  But I’ve done that more than enough times already to know that what would work better is if I search for the answers deep inside me.

Maybe the best advice for me is to travel through myself before I set out and travel through the universe.

Yes, I think that’s it.

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