Straight from a Virgo's mouth

I thought I was a melancholy, but a friend once argued back and described me as phlegmatic. It doesn’t matter. I mar, I take pleasure in things I do and I express myself. I’m only human, and to experience emotions is only but a part of it. I am no poet, but I comprehend its language. I understand that each poem jotted is always influenced by some sentiment, regardless of the sort.  Many are times I get a rush of emotions, so strong. I take a moment, shut my eyes and just let it pass. I feel it from the tip of my head, down my spine and off through my feeble legs.

Today I thought to take a tick and um, space and explore these extreme untouchables that God gave me.

When I love, I love. I guess this is the part where I reveal the fact that I’m a Virgo? I love without turning back. I trust with my whole being and will only be cautious when one gives me a reason to. I give everyone an equal chance to tan themselves black. I forgive too, but that’s easier when an apology is offered. If not I’ll heal, and when I do I will not hate nor will I despise. I will become stronger and only prove to the world that I am unique.

One thing I have never done is take back an ex. No matter how sorry they say they are, or how much they work to prove how their world stops for me; or that I am the only mosquito in their net. I will feel their distress and I will understand them. I might even shed a tear for their efforts. But I never take back someone who lets his interests get ahead of him, no matter how small.

If you cry, I’ll cry too. Not because I love you so much or that I hate to see you cry, but rather because I feel. I feel your pain and anguish and I will cry whether I like it or not.

If I do not cry I will leave your panorama to avoid the contagious weep-mode…because it’s inhuman not to feel another’s genuine pain. Why else do you think babies’ communication tool is crying? Then again it takes a flexible foot to fit in another’s shoe.

If someone dies, be it a stranger or not, I bear it in my heart. I picture their last moments and let the fear of impending doom that lurks in waiting wearily grip my heart. I mourn silently wondering whether they accepted their fate or battled and still lost.

If a child dies, I die.

I endure the terrible feeling of the gut wrenching reality choke in my throat; the bare truth that a child so small, so innocent so young has to face the harsh wrath of death…let me not swing the Friday mood.

If you smile (this is tricky), I might or might not smile back. I most likely will first swerve and look over my shoulder just to make sure I am indeed the one the smile is targeted at. This act aims to save my shame in case I spot another person grinning uncontrollably at you from behind me. If it’s I you directly smile at. My first reaction would be to smile back, after which I will start wondering whether we have met before or whether you mistook me for someone else.

If my daughter smiles at me I will feel all warm and fuzzy inside and I might get overwhelmed, grab her and steal a hug. No pun intended…note I say this in defence before my next words…if a man suddenly smiles at me, I will immediately become suspicious. If it’s a stranger I will see a potential rapist and the next thing he will see is dust. If my husband smiles at me…I will peer into his face looking for possible clues.

I am outgoing, but do not seem so to everyone. A first glance at me will automatically brand me as snobbish. I won’t blame you. It’s just the look on my face, when my soul prefers to consult my brain rather than my mouth, I go undercover and into a conference meeting. There my body becomes a shell protecting a myriad of activities happening inside  my head.

Pulling me out of this shell to give you attention will no doubt be a challenge, not only because I will be deeply engrossed in myself, but also the look I will be wearing at this state. The scary scrawled face all too natural to think ‘impression’

I write, walk and talk very fast. At times I get over excited and tumble over my words in a stutter.

I am a home-maker. I love repairing torn clothes (wish I could, shoes too!) and customising everything in my house to my family’s comfort. I love being a mother and a wife, with its challenges and all. I love bathing my little girl and chasing her all over the house…does it sound a lot like the old school life in the Spanish Prairies? Ok. This prairies joke has got to die now. I enjoy the inevitable boring stuff that get on my nerves like shouting Pesh off the window, making a budget and hanging the clothes on the line after a wash.

I value a simple happy life with extravagant things. I am soft spoken yet blab a little too much. My family says I am the kind of person who will emotionally defend people close to me and teach them their rights. I smile a lot but will tell you off should you step on my toes.

A young immature bloke once stopped me on the road and said hi. He called me beautiful. I told him I’m married and walked off. He didn’t stop. He said he just wanted to shake my hand…that a handshake wouldn’t get me pregnant. That did it. I stopped, turned and walked to him. I never shook his hand. I stood right in his face and dared him to repeat his words. The idiot backed off.

I will not speak of bedroom matters. No I am not shy and no you will not blackmail me. I am just a normal Virgo woman.

So well, that’s me, in a thousand words.

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