I've been thinking lately about you. You've been running through my dreams again. Every time I see you in my dreams I can't help but cry. I cry so hard that my chest tightens and I can't breathe. I wake up every time with tears on my pillow. There was this hope for a while that you would come back and we would leave off from where we were. I wish I could have done things differently. Was this all my fault? I'm pretty sure it was. It was my selfishness that led me away from you, into the arms of an emotional train and now I'm standing on the side-walk in the middle of the rain. I see you smile a genuine smile and it saddens me to know I'm not the reason. I was the reason for your pain. I guess it's my turn now to play the waiting game. Is this how you felt when you waited for me? I was surprised that there was this wonderful person waiting for me. I apologize to you. I want to just cry so hard and tell you about my life, I want to break down, but I would only break down for you. How hopeless this sounds. How hopeless this situation is, but yet I am still smack dab in the center of it all.
I guess that isn't where I should begin. I guess let me take it back to the beginning and maybe you'll understand how I feel.
It was my Sophomore year in high school, let me just say, I wasn't fully aware of what being a girl was like. I had just strolled into myself and "Black" was the only thing I felt comfortable in. I wore my hair into pony tails most of the time, because it was so long that I didn't want to actually try to fix my hair. I wore clothes that were a couple sizes too big for me. That's saying a lot because I was really skinny, not to the point of anorexic, but the normal high school kid skinny. I wore safety-pins in my ears and I thought of myself as "goth", but I'm pretty sure I was just a pretty-girl trying to cover myself in black, because that is how I saw myself. On the first week or so of the second semester, I had chosen to take Spanish 2, not by choice of course, but because it was a requirement. That was the day that I had met him. Let me just say, the way the movies does slow motion when you first meet someone who catches your eyes, well, that was exactly how this moment was. I walked into the classroom that was decked out in Spanish sombreros, posters with the verbs "ser" and so on, and other Spanish related things plastered to the walls. I went across the room to the far side of the desks with built in chairs on them and that is when he walked in. He came in to the room in a nonchalant walk like he didn't expect for anyone to be staring him down as he entered. He sat across the room from me, one desk to the left. The way the desks were set up was that there was a great path in the center and the desks facing each others, which in my case I had a great view of the door. He sat down and caught a glimpse of me, but I had played it off rather well. He sat there in a red shirt with a fedora hat on top of his, medium-length, curly hair. He was the center of my attention and that is when I loved Spanish Class.
TBC...
No comments:
Post a Comment