Passing Fancy

Passing fancies was not something I was familiar with.

At first, I did not think that it was a besotted ness that wouldn’t last. Clearly my feelings ran deep. I could see.
Let me contradict myself at this point, sense (as always) comes much after the experience. Sometimes when one thing is clear, your focus on that one thing or person is so strong that, all other objects blur out in the background. My situation was a simile to this.

I saw ‘clearly’ what I was feeling and I liked what I was feeling. This, passing fancy, shall we call him, excited me. A kind of excitement I had not felt since my bruised heart had decided to shun away from feeling like….like this.
I was holding on to this feeling, holding on so hard that I barely realized what I was letting go off in the bargain. But I didn’t see it, blinded my new obsession.

Soon, I was not being my chatty self, my bubbliest of moods turning shy. I was more aware of every step, every strand of hair on my head, every word I uttered around my passing fancy.
Of course I was oblivious to how it did not matter one bit to anyone but me, I was being brutally ignored, looked over and frowned upon even.

However, I had no one to blame but myself. I was not being myself. I found it disturbingly difficult to talk, walk, and eat in the presence of his highness. Should it have been any surprise then, that I was being coined as ‘weird’?

I WAS behaving weird. Keeping in mind that this person I was turning into around my dearest fancy was nothing like the real me, I will proceed.
Day in and day out, the one thing on my fickle mind was how I was going to make him look at me, see me as ME, not this dumbfounded, fragile, sulky little introvert that I became when I was spoken to. But I could never muster the courage to be myself without becoming self conscious.

Does love do these things to you? Or do we exaggerate our fancy’s importance to such an extent that we tend to belittle ourselves?

Okay so it may not be love at all….then? Is it the looks?
…because if it is by looks that my behavior turned topsy, can you imagine what god like features passing fancies have?

As time went by and his looks or my love, (whichever it may be that appeals to your taste) increased in his favour, my effect on this fantastic fancy was just the opposite.
Ever seen ying-yang put together and thought: Poles brought together: black and white, no? Then, I’m sure that opinion would pop up if you saw me stand by my fancy. Let alone looks, I looked like Betty in front of Superman.

Clearly my complex was getting worse; I felt like nothing and yet admired everything of what I knew I could not have.
I THOUGHT I had it bad this time…

SENSE:
As all good things come to an end, this frenzy did too. Wonder why I called him ‘Passing Fancy’?
When sensibility slapped me around in the face a few times and my numb brain began to register pain. Only then did it occur to me that this wasn’t going anywhere.

How could I expect my fancy to fancy me, if it wasn’t ME at all?
I wouldn’t win over any hearts by not being myself. So I started all over again, with great restraint on my part not to be sucked in by his beauty, poise and everything else I did not have.
I was not familiar with passing fancies, and so I decided that this was something. There was something different about this fancy. The only way to cut out the PASSING from Passing Fancy was to be myself.

Not that it would necessarily work, he may not like the real me at all. Buy it’s worth a shot anyway…