How long has it lasted?
Mine has been an on-going project of seven years.
Seven long years.
Even though I can't see him, he creeps into my heart (in the good unsuspecting way of course) from time to time, and it hurts. Memories flash this way and that way. His famous smile ever present. Still vibrant and bright like yesterday's memories. Directed at me as I studied him, wondering if he was leading me on a wild goose chase, or was he truly the guy who only had eyes for me? The guy I've always dreamed of meeting and knowing?
He was an elusive enigma to me.
And he still is …
I only began to put the pieces of the puzzle that is him together over the last few years. Its not done yet. But I think I can understand him a bit better than I started.
If I could see him once more there would be too much to say.
Like where to begin?
How about here: Why Me?
I'm not pretty – even though you told me I was once upon a time.
I'm not popular – I was more invisible than wallpaper until you came and ripped it off me.
I'm not girly – tomboyish and a willing volunteer for the guys' team in gym since there was a major imbalance of guys and girls alike.
I'm not outgoing – like I am at home because you only saw the bookish and quiet side of me.
I was alone – until you said hullo and smiled at me almost everyday.
Still you paid attention to me.
Half of me was confused and lived in constant denial while the other half would soar with hope and afraid my heart would burst all over you and break the spell over us.
The other day I spoke to a friend of mine for advice and he said "He may thought you didn't respond much to his attempts to reach you and he may have given up, so it's your turn now. Turn the tables. It's not too late!" , "Sometimes, love portrays itself in th strangest of ways, while it may look idiotic and stupid in one individual's eyes, in another, the meaning is so much deeper." and "Your sudden reappearance by the way might spark that back up, and he'd be so stunned that he remembers you.".
And I would remember the times you would ask for my test scores and beam proudly if you bested me while I playfully stuck my tongue at you. Or if I beat you, I would cheer happily while you groaned and swear I wouldn't be so lucky next time while hiding a grin.
And the other times where you took care and remembered my allergies and brought me a different Halloween goody for me, same with valentine's day.
Followed by the Halloween costume contest where I stood up dorkily on stage with the announcer choking out a badly pronouncement of "Inuyasha" and you congratulated me with that famous grin even though I did stand a ghost of a chance against Luigi or was it Mario? I forget. But Mario/Luigi was one of your good friends too but you still congratulated me nevertheless and it made it all the while.
Other times you would be grateful for me on your team because I was practically the only capable girl able to match the guys' level in any sport, namely our sport – soccer.
Not to mention that one time during those many snow days stuck in the gym where you and three girl were about to play a game of basketball and you called me over to be your partner proudly. I fondly remember although we were probably the ultimate tag-team duo against that trio of giggling girls we kept missing and trying to look cool in front of the other. We never did get that one basket, did we? But we laughed even though I'm sure you were just as disappointed as I was that we didn't even win or even score a basket.
Or that other time when you came late one test during a blizzard with that familiar bright smile as you took a seat at my lonesome table when you could have had any other. Then you made a war over my pencil as you playfully tried to steal it with little success. I'll give you points for purposely making my shy away and lose after a brief skin contact while you did the same with my pencil and victory shining in your eyes. To let you know – it was warm. Very warm.
Another fond memory was during one math class where we had cube blocks and I finished the worksheet and went to play with the leftover cubes, then you sat down without me knowing, after finishing your own of course, and only revealed your presence when you asked me to pass that light green cube. We had a lot of fun then. Laughing and racing to build the best cube-bot warrior. Playfully fight to acquire the last cube. Of course your friend was there too laughing along too, but we were in our little world, weren't we? Personally I think yours was better than mine although you said mine was.
But perhaps the onetime that really stood out the most and continues to puzzle me to this day is when my hearing resource teacher came in to give a presentation based on my hearing impairment. You bravely raised your hand and calmly admitted to having slightly poorer hearing in one ear due to an accident some years prior. Even now I'm dumbstruck and left in awe that you said that in front of everyone. But I remember that you were turning slightly red as I stared in blank admiration of you.
Other times include you personally asked to sign my yearbook while I signed yours, then you actually took the time to read my words, laughing and thanked me with that brilliant smile of yours. I've hidden mine so I no longer can seem to find it unfortunately. I can't remember how many times I've looked for it only to find nothing but a frown on my own face.
And that last gym class where you suggested I should pitch for the girls' team to give the guys a challenge and I said "no" to hide my embarrassment. I have no excuse for it other than I was embarrassed and oh so very glad you thought so highly of me, but it was also so that the current pitcher wouldn't throw a tantrum. If I could go back, I'd say yes, oh hell I would said yes and try my best. And certainly decked my meekly naïve past self and screamed MORON. Then proceed to throw up all my lingering regrets and feelings that I still hold buried deep in my hear that not many know at you.
But I think you'd freak out or simply stare in stunned silence. It's that response that I fear the most even now. What kind of face would you make now if I told you this?
Or perhaps when you called my name that last day and took a picture, admired it briefly before your friend asked you what you were up to, with you hastily covering your camera up and replying with a simple "nothing" then scrambled to take someone else's picture by random. I still wonder what you did with it – not that I'd ask you about it straight away should we meet again. I'll wait because I probably really don't want the answer to that one. It'll spoil the illusion. So shush please.
But there's simply too many other precious moments to me to list here. This is long enough already without me adding more! But if I was asked, then surely I regale them with a fond smile.
All the thank-yous I've said then don't do hint of my eternal gratitude to you justice.
But when did all the "I thank yous" become "I love yous"?
Because that's exactly what happened.
As the year went on, we did more and more events together, and sure enough I was smitten with you.
Eighth Grade became fun. Soon I was looking forward to coming everyday. All because of you. I can't remember that year without remembering you at the helm. I cannot seem to imagine my life before you introduced yourself into my life.
Maybe it was fate or maybe it was coincidence that our gym teacher got mad that day and told the guys to actually USE me on your team rather than pass me by and ignore me. I was stunned when you called my name and passed the ball to me, so much that I briefly stood there in stunned silence only to move again with a brightest smile that ever graced my face and pass it quickly on, and finally score us a basket. After that you repeatedly passed me the ball and slowly the other guys would follow your footsteps and congratulate me for my aid, whenever we scored.
You probably didn't know then but I think that was the actual start. Slowly but surely you entered and engulfed my heart. But you didn't know that you had already captured me from day one.
When you were away, I felt restless, my heart sulking. But when you walked into the room you brought the sun with you. You always had that way of brightening the room and rally the class.
Now here's the part where I say, "I'm sorry".
So terribly sorry for many things, especially never getting up the guts or courage to tell you simply thank-you.
For what?
EVERYTHING.
Your hurt expression, your disappointment reflected clearly in your voice, your downcast eyes when I said no that day when you suggested I should pitch and when I said I wasn't going to Mont Cascades with the class.
I ignored it when I shouldn't have, pierced my heart, scarring it with guilt and remorse. But I was scared – scared and embarrassed. Embarrassed to confess in case you laughed at me and said it was a lie. I couldn't bear to have that happen to me again. And I was afraid of looking like that stupid lovesick girl that many just shake our heads in dismay, waiting for the final blow to be dropped.
Yet I was that lovesick girl … for you.
But most of all the reason behind not going to Mount Cascades wasn't just my uncle's wedding but rather that I was afraid of being left behind. With no hearing to aid me. And no one to go with on the rides. I was self-conscious about wearing a bathing suit (I still am). But most of all I was afraid of admitting all that to you. And that you would laugh at me.
But now I know wouldn't have done that.
Because that's not you.
And because of that I always wanted another chance to get it right.
A second chance.
Now I'm getting it.
It begins now, as I walk through those classroom doors and hope – hope that you'll enter Philosophy class on The Great Philosophers 1104 F out of six classes and three choices out of something like several hundred different courses mixed with some outrageous amount of students that attend our university.
But I can't help but wonder that maybe fate won't be as kind to me this time.
It had been repeatedly whenever I ran into you after that special and wonderful year – grade nine art class, the bus stop, my grade 11 visit after transferring schools, the movies, and other various places that I never thought to see you in.
Fate works in mysterious ways.
And it works miracles.
Now it's up to me to make this one count as soon as you stumble through those doors late, stating that you thought the class was elsewhere, and our eyes will meet again and lock after a seven year gap.
I still have some things left unsaid.
I still want to "thank/love" you.
Only if you'll let me that is …
*
The sun is filling up the room
And I can hear you dreaming
Do you feel the way I do
right now?
I wish we would just give up
Cause the best part is falling
Call it anything but love
And I will make sure to keep my distance
Say "I love you" when you're not listening
How long can we keep this up, up, up?
And please don't stand so close to me
I'm having trouble breathing
I'm afraid of what you'll see
right now
I give you everything I am
All my broken heart beats
Until I know you understand
And I will make sure to keep my distance
Say "I love you" when you're not listening
How long can we keep this up, up, up?
And I keep waiting
For you to take me
You keep waiting
To save what we have
So I'll make sure to keep my distance
Say "I love you" when you're not listening
How long can we keep this up, up, up?
Make sure to keep my distance
Say "I love you" when you're not listening
How long til we call this love, love, love?
-- DISTANCE by Christina Perri [link]
-------------------------------------
This is a personal piece about my thoughts lately.
Normally I wouldn't be one to do this or even suggest doing such a thing because well someone may trample all over your heartfelt thoughts, or laugh, or merely say you were stupid, or why put it here where people can read your deepest regrets?
Well mostly because this is probably a one time thing and I'm at the end of my rope. I can't be embaressed about this any longer nor can I keep this hidden. It's time I did something about it.
And it's about damn time too.
The late nights and worries concerning him. I know its stupid. He's probably not suffering the same heartache that I am. In fact he probably moved on years ago. I mean, seven years is a hell of a long time, isn't it? But I can't help but wonder what he is doing now. Is he happy? If I just knew that I'd be satsified.
I wonder if this is happening to him too?
Thank-you Miss Christina Perri and your beautiful songs, notably "Distance", which I have included the lyrics in this description, that really resembled my behaviour back then. It truly describes it. I admit I cried. Cried because of regret. Cried because the truth hurts. Cried because of many unresolved feelings inside my heart desiring to burst forth and be free of its torment. The various things tha I've kept bottled up and caged for the last seven years of life.
D-Day is Monday.
But I'm freaking out. My heart doesn't want to remain calm. And if he doesn't appear I fear he'll plague me for years to come. I'll spend the rest of my university days scanning the roads and hallways for him to suddenly crash into me.
I don't want to live like this. I can't live like this. I need to be free. I desire it. I wish to be free. And I want to know.
I want to know his side of this story.
I want know where we stand, seven years later.
Thank-you for listening and reading as always,
Magpie~
*
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