My Sweet Valentine #scholarship2020

Chapters Sixteen - The Tragedy of Love

As much as it hurt to know I would never know who my admirer was, now was not the time to get lost in the sadness, or the tragedy as I called it. Final exam was in a week and so I gave all my attention to my books and studied for my papers. And every time we had a paper to write, I would secretly hope that he would give me some hint for me to know who he was. How I wish I could create a spectacle just so I could explain to him why I never showed up. I just didn't have it in me; to publicly announce to the whole class about my feelings just to get the attention of one guy. And so every day I said I would, and every day I wouldn't. Soon exam was over and all I had left was graduation. But even then, I couldn't. Everyone was too occupied with their families for me to get anyone's attention. It was extremely frustrating.

I never met my secret admirer but I knew I had definitely seen him in class many times. I had never paid him any attention because I always only ever spoke to Phillis. And for four years, as he said, he had noticed me from afar, silently falling in love with me and having feelings he didn't know what to do with, but to tell me. And to be rejected with my lack of knowledge of his thoughts for weeks, that was the sad part. If I had rejected him that would have been a different story. But to have wanted to be with him or at least tell him how I had felt these past months, and not even knowing I was on a deadline to do so, that's the tragedy. A tragedy of epic proportions.

Ever since my ex and I broke up, I had tried and failed numerous times to make a connection with a guy. I have wanted to move forward with my life. And now that I had, given, it was with a guy I didn't know, I had lost that chance even. Perhaps with all my intelligence and brilliancy and first class degree, I was doomed to become a bachelorette for the rest of my life.

In a few hours, all the hugs and kisses from the family and loved ones who came to congratulate us will end. In a few hours, I will go home. Home, which was miles away from the school. In a few hours, I will never see anyone again. We will be living our lives, trying to make sense of the world, to fit in and have something going for ourselves. In a few hours, some will find jobs and start careers. In a few hours, some will fall in love and get married. And I, not only did I not know where my life would take me or what life after school would be like, I would also know the truth, the tragedy that begun on valentine's day. I would understand what truly happened and I would have to bear it.

As far as I was concerned, my four years in school ended like this. Jeff was behind bars, probably reflecting on his life and his mistakes, and where they had gotten him. Phillis was having nightmares and screaming in the middle of the night, panicking with every loud door shut or a small spoon hitting the floor. Her parents had suddenly become overbearing with their overprotectiveness of Phillis, but understandably. And I, I was left to write about the love I could have had but didn't. I was left to remember every sweet gesture, and every beautiful flower arrangement, and every lovely note, and every compliment. I was left to re-read them and go crazy that this could have been real. Perhaps that should be enough for me. At least I was finally able to make a connection with someone and let them in.

Phillis' condition got worse over the weeks. And she finally agreed to talk to someone about it. She begun to do much better and was getting herself back. She was one of the few people in my graduate class who didn't have to worry about securing jobs. Her parents had a huge toy factory that she was going to take charge off, and not have to fight anyone for it. She still had reservations about talking to guys we met whenever we hanged out, let alone going on dates with them. But that didn't matter. I was glad she was finally getting better and taking care of herself.

Soon it would be four months since we graduated. Four months since I parted ways, possibly forever, with my secret admirer. Four months of a constant reminder of what could have been.

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Kisses