Something for the weekend

An essay

 

Something for the Weekend

 

           

            I used to stare at her in art class. Her long auburn hair hung down to her waist with elegance. I was completely mesmerized by her presence from the moment she walked in the room to the second we departed and went our separate ways. It was these comings and goings that were both the high light and the low point of my high school days. The joy I felt being near her and imagining the briefest of touches is still with me at 27 years of age, as is the pain of watching her walk away daily.

            We spoke occasionally, I was experimenting with hairstyles. I was uncomfortable with myself at the time; I was uncomfortable with being uncomfortable. Like most young peoples I was also afraid of being afraid and subsequently petrified of rejection. I remember she was dating my friend and then she wasn't. I remember she wanted me to go to a dance with her but my reason for not going was many fold. To this day I am uncomfortable with dancing, large groups, and casual relationships. I felt that   going on a casual date with her as friends would somehow be a lie because of my intense feelings for her. On many cold rainy days like today I sit and wonder what would have been if I had gone to that silly dance with her in the ninth grade.

            Wondering what could have been leads to very complicated feelings. It brings those old feelings of love into the heart when it is lacking, it leaves sorrow and regret in its wake. Dealing with regret is very important. How long can one person dwell on wishing for a time machine? Is even twice a day an acceptable amount? Would I seriously of done anything differently? These are the questions I ask of me daily.

            I am still uncomfortable with being uncomfortable at 27 years of age. I am uncomfortable with dancing, large groups, and casual relationships. I am getting better at casual relationships with males. I can talk or not talk to a given male for any length or non-length of time duration. However, I still find myself problematic in regards to females. I am often enraged at females that are too fast paced to be with me seriously. The lack of an immediate safety net for my insecurities can keep me up at night, forcing me to dwell on minutiae. I am still the same as I was then, a scared little boy.

            The only difference between the old me and the present me is that I am not quite so afraid of rejection anymore. A new fear has presented itself to take the place of the old. This cold lonely winter has led me to realize that. If it is true that I am not scared of rejection anymore, then what am I scared of? Why are so many minutes of my day spent going back to art class in ninth grade with a girl I once loved perfectly but never told? Today, I realize that I am scared of falling in love again. I never learned how to avoid falling in love. After all of these years of heartache, I have become bitter with love and life. I have come to believe that it is impossible for anyone to ever love me back.

            My love life the last 8 years is lacking just as it was in those early high school experiences. My standards are incredibly high for someone of my social status. I have this odd notion that I should be with someone who is as intelligent as she is beautiful. My desire is to find someone who is independent, interesting, and interested in art, science, humanity, and most importantly education. I fail to see how idealizing these qualities in someone has led me to complete isolation in the fine year of 2010. I feel like a dinosaur in a land full of dinosaurs. I am perhaps the dinosaur that likes to read and discuss politics. One would think that in the 21^st century, at the supposed height of reason, it would not be so hard to find a soul mate that reads for fun and loves to learn.

            I saw her last summer, that beautiful girl from ninth grade art class. I spent many hours with her. We laughed, we smiled. She was visiting her family and friends for the month. She is now married and lives overseas. It was seeing her again that led me to remember art class in the ninth of grades. She and I are still pretty much the same way that we were back then. Her smile still made my heart skip a few beats, her grace and beauty brought brief joy to my sad life. She is still as perfect and amazing as she was 12 years ago. I hope she never changes.

Author's Note

constructive criticism please

Reviews

[MusicMartyrs]

your write reminds me of a song..."the best is yet to come"--Hinder
today was my last day of highschool =)
"experimenting with hairstyles" was fun
"dancing, large groups, and casual relationships" not gonna miss those
"never learned how to avoid falling in love" sometimes it's unavoidable
"I hope she never changes." people change, it's inevitable, it's HOW they change that makes them different in a better or worse way
not really criticism..just observations

[AlexAustin]

Feels heartfelt and honest, but the territory is familiar. If the idea is to turn it into a story, you need to take it other directions. But it's fine as an essay about experience.

[Havatara]

It was a good essay. One thing I saw is in the third paragraph towards the end you said "seriously of done," when it sounds better, to me, as "seriously have done." As to the rest of it, I don't really have an opinion as I'm still in high school and don't have any experience worth s**t, so I'm of no help. Good write, though.

[Dakota]

A bittersweet piece. Something we can all relate to.

[Daniel Gardner]

This is sad but that is a good thing. The reader can feel the emotion. Great job.

[Ashley.M.E]

This is a really sweet story, I mean it's a bit sad, but memories like these are things you can hold onto forever...

[Looouise]

I don't think there is any constructive criticism to be had for this piece.
It flowed nicely and the story was really nice to read.
I enjoyed it. :]
[not very constructive.] :]