Post #2: Once upon a childhood

There is something about my childhood I can't exactly understand. Every adult I ever met, and I'm not exagerating here, they all promised me one thing. "The girls will go crazy over him when he is 15!" Alrighty then, fair enough. I would like to notify all of those very same adults that I am as a matter of fact not the mega playboy I was proyected to be by now, but rather quite the opposite. I wrote that prediction off quite sometime before I hit 15, but by the time I was in the third grade, it is well worth mentioning that to me that was no longer a simple complement from the grown ups, but rather some sort of profecy, a vision of things to come that had cemented itself into my very being. It grew on me, and eventually I thought that if that wasnt truth, then nothing would be. So I would think to myself before I was even capable of participating in a coherent, well thought out argument, "I might as well start milking this handsome thing now." And so I did, I would approach any girl that had the privilage of capturing my high spirited 9 year old heart with a confidence I seldom see with even the most weathered pick-up artists. Whenever I was turned down, I simply shrugged it off as their missed oportunity, which it trully is. Yet nothing would hurt me more than one girl in specific. I remember her clearly, she was no taller than maybe three and a half feet. Her posture could have been much better and always had a distinct wrinkle in her cheek when she smiled. I though her cute as I also thought many girls in my class. But nothing would ever compare to what I saw in her eyes. In those gorgeous pools of innocence I saw an ingenuity no girl had ever shown, not even the enchanting dames from ine grade up. So I began to go in, with my friends right behind me. I did everything right, I bought chocolates, tried to talk about her favorite things. I even went all out and bought a bracelet for her. At 500 tickets in the arcade, her gift didn't exactly come cheap, but I, for the first tine felt the sting of young romance. Who was I to look at a price tag when I had a diamond of a gal right infront of me. This persisted for 2 years. From the beggining of third grade, to the end of fourth. To me, she was already my promised one, a petite flower that held my ignorance in her beautiful, flawless hands. To stupid me, it came as a shock when she told me to stop trying to talk to her, to reazonable me, it came as a shock I would never talk to her again, and to me now, it comes as a shock she didn't stop talking to me sooner. I dont blame her for who I am today. But her rejection is one I have never experienced before and never planed on risking going through it again. She was the only one I ever wanted, and now, it was too late. By the time I realized I would never see that rose of a girl, I was well beyond the fourth grade. So I cast her memory a drift, left it to the matters of the mind over the heart and continued my life. And true, life was good, yet it was too simple for my own good. Now, I got a second chance. Should I risk going all in, or should I fold with a hand even a blind man would know is a bad play. Well reason be danmed, I suck at poker anyway.

Post #1: Introduction

Throughout my life I have never thought I was lacking anything. True, the development of my romantic habilities isn't exactly one I'm proud of. Yet for some reason I felt fullfiled. I never looked back at things left unsaid in agony. Rather in joy that I was brave enough to say what little I did so that my soul did not bear the weight of my cowardice. I remember this as the first summer when my heart was free, as light as a feather, for it was the first time I was not a slave to some unattainable desire, but to my immediate whims. I was happy. For a while that is. Its an ackward little feeling, funny too. The one feeling, that the person sitting two seats to your right would on any given moment hold your pride, your heart in her hands. I didn't know who I was talking to at first, all I know is that she wasn't normal. I found out who she was, no, it is better to say I remembered who she was. Not only that, I remember what she did to me. What I wrote off as a childhood crush had blossomed, and she was as beautiful now as she was 10 years ago. The first girl I ever wanted, I still wanted. "What was wrong me?" I though to myself over and over before realizing I had never wanted something so much as her. I still dont understand why I feel the way I do, but I take this oportunity to explore it day by day. Only then can I realize what I trully feel. But one thing is for sure. No matter how much I think about her, the only word that comes to mind is love.