United States

I'm 17
I like to dream

Maybe a fool

and classical guitarist

Let us barter

Mountain girl
I like burl

River otter
Viking daughter

Wolfdog owner
Forest roamer

I'm no fighter
But I am a writer

Message to Readers

This personal essay contest is really making me reminiscent.

Love, I Guess

August 28, 2018


My first. I can't remember when I first saw him. Too young, I guess. The decision that he was the one for me was conscious, instinctive. I've never had much opportunity in whom I choose.

I don't remember much about him. I remember his voice, his face, his name, and his sister. I remember trying to sit next to him every chance I got and usually succeeding. Before he left, he noted with a laugh at how we always ended up sitting next to each other. I blushed the color of a dreaded tomato and swore not to be so transparent. My first of similar oaths. I remember being horrified to learn that he was allergic to basically all my favorite foods. I remember my hurt anger when I heard that he had a crush on someone else (I don't remember who). I blamed him, refused to talk to him. Not long afterward, like some cliché movie, he moved. I was upset for a while, refused to be in love with anyone else.

But I was never in love. This I admitted many months later. I was in love with the idea. Still, I refused to fall in love. It was a distraction. A risk that I couldn't afford. I wasn't wrong, but my early attempts were a bit ridiculous, because just as my first was leaving I met my second.

He was different from the last guy. He was gawky, awkward in his body. He was a few years older than me. He had a nice smile, a smile that he took from his dad, which was how I found his parents in the crowd.

I remember quite a bit about him. I remember sharing a few memories with him. Maybe it's because I was older, perhaps because my feelings were somewhat genuine this time.  I know I'm not the only one.

Boys are rare. They stand out and are immediately the center of attention. He was no exception. He could make anyone laugh, and the girls were drawn to him because of it. I refused to be one of them. I scowled at him, I ignored him. He was probably quite puzzled by it. What he didn't know was that I didn't like the way he could pull a giggle from me without my consent. I didn't like the smile that tugged my lips when we caught each other's gazes. I didn't like the quick pounding in my chest when he came too close into my personal space--he's the sole reason I came up with a "personal bubble", though I've kept to it since.

He's not the only boy who's done this to me. But the others I met for brief periods of time. I was in his proximity twice a week for years.

I never did admit it to myself, though I knew full well what was happening. Honestly, this is the first time I've truly admitted it, many years later. But even now, I'm not going to say it.

I got over my silly behavior and became friends with him. I'm not sure how well I hid my feelings. I have a slight suspicion that his parents knew, though perhaps he didn't simply because of lack of experience.

As I said, I wasn't the only one who was like this. I'm pretty sure every girl felt the same, except maybe the older ones. Maybe.

Then, one day, he just disappeared. Nothing bad happened to him. He just left. I'm not sure why. I have a few ideas that aren't relevant.

I got over him. I remember him, and back then, remembered often, still refusing the truth. I had just gotten over him when I saw him again, about a year later. He was with his mom, taller but otherwise no different. I didn't say hello. I smiled, waved, redid my ponytail, and tried to ignore the blood rushing through my veins, the thumping in my chest.
Then he was gone again. I haven't seen him since. I regret not saying hello.

I have seen his mother recently. Once a week, I have the chance to walk over to her and start a conversation. But she isn't exactly friendly. Only a few days ago was the first time she truly smiled at me.

Maybe this time I'll ask.

He was my second, and my last. I reminded myself of my oath and have kept to it. I haven't been in constant contact with boys my age, so I haven't had problems.

Except the lust.

Now, I find it easier to look at a boy and admit sexual attraction (a recent, annoying development), at least to myself. I can then continue without much difficulty.

But I want it so badly. It hurts. I sit back as my friends gain boyfriends, unable to even meet a boy. I watch as they smile and cry. I listen with quiet envy, but I only smile, frown, do what I must to keep them happy. They can't help me. So instead I dream of a sweet romance in the safety of my thoughts.

As my dad said, my first relationship is going to be interesting. I'll be in my twenties, inexperienced and new. Everyone else will have something, be it a lousy date, a rejection, a love letter. They'll have something. All I'll have is a boy I liked the idea of and a boy who I couldn't acknowledge due to place and circumstance. Everyone else will know what it is like to be in love. I don't. Not really. I was, at most,  thirteen years old when I had a real crush. It was real enough that, if I meet him again, I can never tell him what I felt, not until I've felt it again.

And with that, I'll leave with a final thought. I'm afraid of these feelings I can't control. 

Sister of mine, if you see this please don't tell. Leave me in the blessing of anonymity. 

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

  • Kahasai


    over 1 year ago
  • fatpanda


    over 1 year ago
  • Kahasai

    Thank you!

    over 1 year ago
  • bi_felicia

    Very well written!

    over 1 year ago
  • Kahasai

    I guess we are, but some are more afraid than others.

    Thank you! :)

    over 1 year ago
  • AbigailSauble

    Oh, aren't we all . . .?
    Well written. :)

    over 1 year ago