I call her Wednesday since I’m not allowed to speak or write her name. It’s the day I look forward to because it’s the only day I get to see her. If you asked me if I believed in love at first sight I would answer directly “I don’t”. But that’s until I saw her a year ago. I compare my first sight of Wednesday to that of a mother’s first sight of her new born child. The mother feels overjoyed and scared at the same time, but no matter what future holds she knows she will love that baby unconditionally despite the troubles she’ll face as the child grows up. I felt excitement when I first saw Wednesday at the same time I felt intimidation. I was drawn to her but withdrew back the moment I realized our incompatibility. She’s so tall – twice my size – and very girly, so unlikely to go out with or even pay attention to a short girl who can’t even pronounce her sexuality. Hence, I buried my feelings for her. I went on with my life without entertaining any thought of her. But fate was curious about what could’ve happened if I told my feelings to Wednesday and so he had our path cross again. This time I confessed to Wednesday the feelings I’ve had for her since our first encounter. She never accepted it, but she never rejected it either. She said she admired my courage for telling her and that she’s flattered. I never heard from her since then but I continue to love her – at least in my own little way. I feel I have so much love to offer her, which rationally she can’t accept, and I don’t want this love to go to waste so I devised a plan. Every Wednesday after visiting the shrine, I would randomly pick out three street children and feed them. Sometimes I think that Wednesday is God’s instrument, my trigger to start what I’ve always wanted to do and that is to help these less fortunate little children.
Loving Wednesday is both happiness and sadness. Her presence, the thought of her, the pleasure I feel just saying or writing her name bring so much happiness. At the same time, her absence, the thought of her, the fact that she’s not mine and she’ll never be mine bring so much sadness it’s tormenting and I feel hopeless. If I would be selfish I would wish for her to be mine even if she wouldn’t be any closer to happiness. But I’m not. And all I really want is for her happiness. In fact, not having her is not the one thing that will hurt me the most, seeing her miserable is. I may never get the chance to be with her, but one thing that will be engraved in my heart and memory is the day when she finally noticed me. She smiled at me. She talked to me when I talked to her. But that’s just it and that’s enough for me.