high school throwback

when i was in high school i used to write. i know i know, unbelievable huh? anyway, i found this essay and i thought it was cute so i wanted to blog it.


"I like that girl... i feel that girl, she could be my life, my heart and soul. if only i spoke to her," Crouched low in a corner e thinks of the girl he saw. She passed him: she was beautiful. She rode his morning bus twice a week. He is drawn to her. In all her beauty with her braids flowing down her back, each individually having a life of their own but uniformly creating a crown above her head. Her skin is smooth a chocolate, she has a button nose with full lips below that always played at a smile. The doe's eye caught the 7:37 am light.He was drawn to her, he stared at her, he is infatuated with her. Never talked, never exchanged names. Theirs was the oddest, most frightening of love affairs, an obsession. The guy imagined the girl in everyway while reclined in the computer lab chair. He imagines the sound of her voice: like the tinkling of a chandelier. He imagines her eating her favorite meal: grilled chicken salad with balsamic vinegarette. He imagines her sleeping: braids tied lying on a full sized bed with an ornate rose wood head board, green satin bed gown adorned with beige lace;Sleeping on her side, neatly under her blanket.

If only he knew he was not alone.

"That boy could be mine, he is mine, I can see him being my life. Why doesnt he want to speak to me? I shyly speak to him with my eyes and even smile his way." She is in a type of love she guesses. She needs him to talk to her, she is so drawn to him, he addicts her. Twice she sees him and since them she is in constant thought and constantly longing for him. She watches him read his issue of Rolling Stone or another magazine and peeking his green eyes out to steal gimpses of her. She once felt lasers on her skin and suddenly looked up to see him drinking her image in. She takes her chance to look at him while his guard is down:His skin was like a beautiful beige bisque. He favored retro t-shirts and track jackets. His arms were slightly muscular, his nails neat, his hands lotioned. His smart nose, above juicy red lips with a faint layer of ChapStik. Wheat colored boots, clean and fresh, peaks from under the denim of his jeans. On her way to school, she carries her camera for her Tuesday photography class. One day she slyly turns the flash off and steals his image in her camera. She develops it in school under the red light and fuels the feeling growing in her. Her heart begins to ache and her mind begins to scream: She is not bold enough to approach him. She lets feelings be obsessions. It doesnt matter... She will ride the the 8:05 bus from now on.

They will depart the bus longing, go to sleep longing and always ask "what if". Eventually they will fade from the other's memory but they will also share something: the first tastes of an obsession.


isnt that kind of creepy for me to write? i decided i wanted to share with people i dont know and some of you that i do know that read my blog. i hope you enjoyed my little find.