Seasons

first day | jeremiah

My breath hitched in my throat as I saw her. I knew she was the one I had to love, the one I'd have to give the rest of my love to. I didn't really think it through, honestly.

All I knew was that:

1.) She took my breath away as if her smile could cure cancer, as if she would be all human kinds salvation.

2.) She could be the one to take this poetically melancholic ache in my chest away from me; plant symbolic flowers in my heart as they grow with every beat that beats for her.

But most of all,

3.) I most certainly did not know that love at first sight isn't real.

The thing is, I am naïve and fairly despondent. I didn't think love would come with the desperate clawing, no, desperate yearning for her to love me back.

I didn't think that love wasn't easy. I thought that love was free and for everyone because everyone deserves love, but not everyone thinks they do.

I worked hard enough to win her affection. The days that have past were all days of loving her and cherishing the mere fact that she was present in my life, existing, just being there for me.

I would go back to all those moments we've spent together, Jo, you're the love of my life and I would like to have spent the rest of eternity with you.

Except we didn't.

And I can't change that anymore.

Today, I am going to tell you about Josephine and I.

I assume that you would be all ears and eager to listen to our excruciatingly devastating past relationship.

Rest assured, you will be listening to me wail around about how much I love her that you will begin to love her as much as I do, well, not nearly as much, but I think that you do get what point I'm trying to get across here, dear reader.

Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah. So, she walks through the doors of the library (aka the doors of my life) and the light of the sun from the ceiling to floor windows were clearly doing her and I a favor because it was hitting her features so perfectly that I just wanted to take a picture of the whole moment, so I photographed it and kept it within the dark recess of my mind, hoping I could come back to this moment and relive it through the lonely nights.

That sounded well creepy, damn. I'm not so much of a creep, I swear, she just makes me sound like one because of how incredibly breathtaking the sight of her is.

As you can most probably tell, I am admiring her beauty from afar like all shy guys. You see, I'm not as outgoing as Josh Winchester (the cliché jock, school heartthrob obviously) or as shy as Devin Browning, the one who respectfully fulfilled the superficial stereotype of being a "nerd".

I am simply what you call, a wallflower. Here is a definition (courtesy of Google) of the word "wallflower" in case you don't already know.

wall·flow·er

ˈwôlˌflou(ə)r/

noun

1.

a southern European plant of the cabbage family, with fragrant yellow, orange-red, dark red, or brown flowers, cultivated for its early spring blooming.

2.

informal

a person who has no one to dance with or who feels shy, awkward, or excluded at a party.

Of course, we could be talking about cabbage, but unfortunately, we are not. We are talking about me being a socially inept prick who at least didn't stick out like a sore thumb, but quite the opposite which, of course, is me being invisible.

Take note, invisible and not invincible.

I could be both, but of course, I am not as brave and courageous as others.

A week has passed and she still sits in the same chair, on the same table, simultaneously reading and typing something on her laptop.

But today, today was a some-kind-of-special day because I actually went up to her. What a surprise! I actually did (I know, please do not underestimate my flirting skills and talking to not only of the opposite gender, but also of the same gender and/or sexuality. I told you already! I am awkward at all times, really).

"Um, can I help you?" She squinted at me through her black-framed reading glasses.

"Hey, hi. I was, uh, wondering when you got here? No! I mean, are you new here?" I proceeded to blabber on. "I just haven't really seen you around before." I could feel the faint pinkish color creeping up my neck all the way to the apples of my cheeks.

One thing was for sure; I knew that she thought of me as a freak.

A A-grade, sloppy, freak.

In all fairness, I grew a pair of balls and talked to her, but that didn't really count because I'm 100% sure that many boys have already spoken to her.

"Yes, indeed, I am new here. My name is Josephine, but you can call me Jo." She flashed me a sweet, effortless smile. My heart skipped a beat at that, I'm fairly sure of it.

I almost forgot to reply to her and then she was staring at me, unblinking, "oh, I'm Jeremiah. You can call me anything you want, really." I tried to give her my best smile, the one with my dimples showing, but I'm sure that I only looked like I was suffering from constipation or Lose Bowel Movement.

"Well, Jeremy," she furrowed her eyebrows. "Is it alright if I call you that?" I nodded. "I'm in the middle of revising my English notes. Would you maybe want to grab a coffee on my way out in awhile?"

I swear, I felt like I've been waiting for something like this all my life even if I never knew that something like this could even happen to a guy like me.

I'm sorry, that's just my hopeless romantic side speaking for me. I profusely apologize, dear friends. She just makes me all flustered and my palms sweat. I need to see a doctor, I think.