When the Night was Over

It was so tiring. Standing for more than four hours, introducing people, commenting on performances, laughing with the guests,  managing the program, doing a lot of adlibs (we didn't even talked about rehearsing or stuffs like that), talking about marriage and singing in the program finale and all those tiring stuffs. 

People were so happy. They were so busy doing their thing. I did mine. Smoothly. With my partner host. We did great (I just hope) but after it all, I felt so alone. I don't know why I felt so alone. I look at people and see their happy expressions. I can see smiles on their faces, their eyes sparkling with joy and elation. They congratulate the newly weds, they were dancing, taking photos, talking with each other, singing songs of felicity. And I was there all alone. Not that I don't have friends there around me, I actually have a lot of them there. Greeting me. Praising me for a job well done and for a performance, they said, which was pleasantly touching. I was smiling in return. In fact, I got tired of smiling. And I find myself mingling with  a lot of people but feeling like an island. 

The cameras were flashing their lights against me. I was posing for their satisfaction. I was smiling for their amusement. I was there to amuse. They were all looking at me because I was the manoeuvre.  It was like a job. Unpaid. I willingly did that for... well... a friend. A friend who touched my life once. And it was all over. 

There was not a pang of hurt or jealousy. There was just a feeling of... being knocked over? I don't know exactly but my pride is eating me. All I know is this is what I always feel whenever someone from my past becomes happy with someone else. I am so selfish and self-centered, I know. But at least I have the courage to really admit that in front of everyone. 

And when the night is over, I contemplated about the way we looked at each other. The way he smiled at me, with that longing expression on his face (or am I just assuming it). He smiled. I smiled. I looked away and then I looked back at him and he was still looking at me, five meters apart. He looked away and I looked down. I smiled. But I am not happy. 

And when the night was over, I contemplated about the way he said I am beautiful. That I am 'still' beautiful. That moment when I don't know if I will thank him or not; when I don't know if I will shake his hand or just slap his face; when his parents are thanking me (and the thought of them wanting me badly for him before); when his bride is thanking me... myself torn about kissing her or hugging her, or doing both while ruining her. The selfish me, pathetically thinking about things that don't matter anymore. About things that don't deserve to be thought of anymore.