Love appears

The Beginning of Something

I saw her today on Rosenthal Street... and I can’t stop thinking about her. Out of all the beautiful girls, she was exceptionally beautiful. Light blue jeans that matched her light eyes, a white knitted sweater, her brown hair falling below her shoulders. She was talking to another girl, whom I assume was her friend, perhaps not even aware of her subtle movements, engrossed in their conversation. In the background, there was a low wall made of muddy-colored stones, separated by a kind of white cement, and rising another meter, a thick myrtle hedge, which seemed to listen to their dialogue. Her face was illuminated by soft rays of sunlight that didn’t weigh down her eyelids, leaving her eyes alert to the events of the universe, ready in case the conversation needed a pause. But she was full of energy—her body radiated immense contentment. She smiled gracefully at something and turned toward me, still smiling. Surely, she wasn’t smiling at me, but in my direction. They were most likely not talking about me. Or were they? No, almost certainly not... If she kept smiling after looking at me, perhaps it’s because I don’t bring her sadness. Maybe one day I’ll think, “Why didn’t I smile back at her?”, maybe a missed opportunity. A simple moment that maybe mattered.

The Happy Feeling

I rejoice when she appears in my mind. It’s been those sunny days. Every day of the school week, I see her. She’s the girl of my dreams, and I’m never sad or lost when she’s around. I walk through the hallways hoping to cross paths with her, searching for her in the crowds one last time before heading home. I look forward to going to school, and I dream on the train ride home after seeing her. I avoid smiling so I don’t seem foolish, but inside, I’m filled with joy. She’s the reason I get out of bed in such a good mood, it doesn’t take me as long to get up anymore. As long as my eyes know her, I’ll be fine. She’s transformed the world for me. I thought it was just that one day when she looked so captivating, but I’ve realized she’s the same every day. Her style changes little, she remains beautiful.

She Is Present

I magnify, it grows, I dream more and more. I’m with her, she’s sitting by my side on the train, talking about trivial things, sports, the news, and her interests. She enjoys baking cakes and making salads. She likes ice cream in the summer and hot chocolate in the winter. She likes the clothes I think suit her best. She watches the news because she likes to stay informed; she’s intelligent and cultured. She loves reading classic novels and sees in me the prince or the resident of the country mansion next door. She likes what I like, and in the end, she’s still herself. We hold hands so often because we’re insecure in this world, and we hug every time we say goodbye. We share long kisses on the lips and many more on the cheeks and forehead. At night, we spend time online, connected, chatting until the shared “Goodnight.” These vivid reflections end with a smile, lasting so long that I soon fall asleep in my bed. Just today, I saw her seven times. She left earlier than I did, but I wanted to see her one more time, at least once more. I was in the right places. I’m beginning to recognize the faces of the people she talks to, I even glanced at the class lists. I already know her full name.

I Am Better

I think she turned toward me while I was looking at her. I tried to act natural—maybe that way she wouldn’t notice that I was watching her. I think I was once on her side, with Lilian. Even now, I’m still not sure if she really liked me when she invited me out. I never gave her the thoughts and feelings she deserved. If she did like me and I never realized it, it could be good or bad. It might be good because it means I can keep looking at Catherine, without her noticing. It could be bad because, if she is paying attention to me, she surely doesn’t like me, or she would have talked to me by now. My brain practices too much sport. Still, over the past few weeks, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Catherine. I found her social media profile: some photos, and then so little else. So, I tried to fill in the blanks with my imagination, and in that space, I’ve been wonderfully free and loving it. What a terrifying thought, though, to accidentally like a post. I don’t want her to think I like her, not yet, at least. I’ve been taking better care of myself. I choose my best clothes on the days I see her most, I make sure to groom my eyebrows and get rid of stray nose hairs. I shower every day without fail, put cream on my face, and I think my skin looks better. I study harder, she’s inspired me to change for the better. Maybe one day, she’ll fall in love with me. I had a Physics test recently, and I couldn’t have studied with more confidence or motivation. I wasn’t able to compare my answers with my friends because I couldn’t find the draft sheet in my backpack. Nevertheless, It went well. I hope to one day be able to enroll in an Electronic Engineering or Electrical Engineering course.

The Fear of Failure

I have to control my breathing with immense austerity, my heart beats faster and heavier every time I think about talking to her. She’s like a TV celebrity. They’re always so cheerful, so happy. Like gods. Desired by so many. She’s the girl from fairy tales, how could she not be? The main character in the dreams of many boys. But what if she says no? She means so much to me. What could be more important than finding out whether or not I’ll have the chance to spend the rest of my life with the girl of my dreams? Oh, my heart pounds so hard it makes my whole body tremble. I just want to postpone it for another day and keep finding excuses to calm myself. If she’s talking to someone, she’s busy. During breaks, while she’s having lunch, or even snacking. I could see her just sitting on a bench, gazing at the rooftops around her, and still convince myself she’s too occupied. I search for excuses where none exist. I wish I had the power to travel through time. To try and try again, over and over, until I get it right. Or the power to read people's minds. I would never feel afraid of receiving an answer. Do I want her to remain part of the dream, instead of risking it and making her a reality, or my tragedy?