It is very untrue
It is very untrue
by Victoria Yarka
It is very untrue, it is also very true that life is just. I am like many of you. Female. Twenty plus to early thirties. Single. At times I believe I am a nomad, I can conquer the world, I enjoy the idea of freedom. Memories of me sipping on Russian Blue at Man Ray in Paris or hiking the Carpathians put a smile on my face. The thought of making it on my own this far is very rewarding. I have done it single for five years, I can do another six months, or a year, or eighteen months, even two years would do but three would be pushing it really! There are those days when I want him to carry life’s burdens with me, when I want to be a hopeless romantic. When I wouldn’t mind if he caught me three fireflies in a jar and hid them under my pillows or if he warned me not to get any closer to him, for he will not let me go, for he has already lost me once before. My struggle is living in two worlds, the world of desiring someone to put three fireflies under my pillows and the world of catching them on my own, putting them under my pillow and watching them dance in the dark. Today is Sunday the 21st of August, I will do what I am very good at doing, being single. I will continue to go to my local Thai restaurant, table for one will do. I will sit under the sun on my balcony with Vanilla Rose tea and listen to Ella Fitzgerald. I will giggle with my girls over how foolish and ridiculous I am at times. Yes I will continue to treat myself to bouquets and bouquets of lilies and daffodils. Maybe I’ll laugh today, maybe I’ll cry tomorrow, but that vase will never fail to have yellow daffodils. Maybe, just maybe, I am completely worth it.
i feel a bit like i’m intruding in the woman’s lavatory by commenting on this but since our ‘lady housewriters’ are out to lunch at the moment, i’ll step in on the merit of me having been a female in a past life. Not that this piece is only for women to appreciate…you know what i mean. Anyways, we don’t get enough autobiographical confessionals here at H & H–compromising the hopeless romantic in ourselves and splicing it with the realist is an excruciating task but a necessary one laden with many pitfalls and self-inflicted agony all wrapped up in lonliness…sorry you have to go thru that. You’re not alone. thanks for opening up.
Coincedentally, and tangentially, i was reading a Surrealist book the other day when i came across this painter/artist guy named Man Ray (didn’t mean to rhyme that), which i guess the above mentioned club was named after maybe. fascinating. later.