Love Is ... 

I yawned for the umpteenth time this morning.

I stared down at my roommate.

Ahra was still standing before the mirror and was admiring the green-colored dress she was wearing. She took more than 15 minutes to finally choose a dress, 20 minutes in the shower, 35 minutes to fix her hair which she ended up simply wearing a ponytail style and 1 hour to put on makeup and some clothes. She woke me up early at dawn to spend 2 hours helping her decide on some things which whatever idea I gave, she simply denied.

Like... For what purpose I was there in the first place if she actually rejects everything I suggested to her? I stared back at my phone and scrolled down Instagram, liking everything I pass by.

"One day, you'll be standing in this place," I heard Ahra say.

"Why would I?" I replied, still fixed onto some weird pictures on the screen. I could sense my friend feeling slightly irritated with my reply. Must be that I accidentally used the wrong tone.

"When that one day comes, you'll know why," she replied.

I don't get it. If a guy loves you, he wouldn't care about what you look like so why should you bother worrying about your appearances anyway? I just don't get it at all. I decided to spill my opinion, "It's not like Jimin cares about what you wear."

But she ignored me since I was probably starting to get into her nerves. Scrolling down, I found an upload of an outside image taken inside a Ferris wheel. I let loose a quiet impressed 'wow' and wondered. "Done!" Ahra sounded, finally satisfied with her look.

"Took you two hours to finally get it done," I muttered under my breath. "And you woke me up at 5 am for this."

I should have known that I have a loud voice and Ahra has a sharp ear. She shot me a look, "That's why I had to wake up early... For that two hours."

"Is two hours really worth it?"

"Of course it is! Especially if it's for someone you love very deeply."

But it's not for time. 

I felt like rolling my eyes but I was too tired to do so and instead I only lifted my head up and replied, "Love's weird."

And Ahra answered me as she cleaned up the mess of clothes and makeup things on her bed that was right next to mine, "No, you're weird. Love is perfectly normal."

Hearing her reply, I began to think that maybe she's right. Maybe I am weird. But is that good or bad? I have no clue. I recalled the image of the scenery outside the Ferris wheel. It was so high that you can see almost the whole city. And the sky was blue at the time it was taken. It was breathtaking.

I wish I could take a snap like that too.

"Can I come too?"

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Ahra looked at me from head to toe after a 6-minute change of clothes. "You're wearing that?"

What's wrong with wearing a simple brown, long-sleeved shirt and shorts? I gave her a questioned look, "What? Oh come on, you're just like my mom!"

"What's with the stockings and sport shoes?" Her hands on her hips, judging me.

"One, it's comfortable. And two, so I can walk faster." I mirrored her, also placing my hands on my hips.

A small sigh was given by my mothering friend as well as another point, "At least put on some makeup."

"I have."

"You did?"

"A bit of powder and lip balm."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Should I kid around if I say it's almost time?"

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