Racerchic478

Teenage Politics
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2003-04-08 03:09:44 (UTC)

Time has won it's way again..

Yes,'tis me, the world's worst diary keeper. I should have
written months ago. But honestly, I haven't had motivation
to write until now. I can write anytime, but to be truly
moved to pour my thoughts into words, something must really
make me want to speak out. Tonight, I have that urge, and
the time to do so (my geometry can wait).After reading the
last post I put up, I can say that the very next day I got
a letter from Timmy. Although, it wasn't what you're
expecting. In a half-page note, he tore my world apart. The
words I forever see in the pages of my mind : "go our
separate ways." Separate? From you? How? Where do you end,
and I begin? Questions left unanswered. Of course I
cried...of course the tears that hit my pillow streaked
hair and tattoos Timmy and I had put on my Simba & Nala
pillowcase.But for a while, I did not admit to anyone,
especially myself, that I still needed him. I even resorted
to hatred of him, so as not to let my thoughts drift of
him. I tried to move on, with many guys I don't even care
to name (that is if I could even name them all which I
don't think I could at this point. Bunch of "R's" in there
somewhere.)I didn't write back, which I thought was pretty
strong of me, considering he is the one person who can make
me swallow my outrageously overrated sense of pride. I put
his pictures away to make sure I wouldn't see him. But
somehow they've begun to drift back out into my room, one
at a time, each with a story to tell. Pictures of the first
days of Fall, with our longsleeves and bare feet. Pictures
of a homecoming night, during a sport I much loathed (as I
now find that there was little reasoning behind my empty
hatred, just a longing for his voice.)Imagine me, the
strong one, crumbling over a boy. Not just any boy, THAT
boy. My soulmate. So after a visit with my mom during
spring break, I realize that I need him back, in any way
possible. Wait, I can't kid you. I meant, I wanted him back
as my boyfriend,my last phonecall of the day, my
puzzlepiece. But these thoughts didn't hit me full scale
until I saw him. The afternoon sun was glaring on the dingy
windows of that quaint little grocery store in that
forgotten little town. I hadn't remembered the smell of
kitty litter to be so strong in the store, but nevertheless
it was there. The uneven tiled floor was covered in
something sticky, and I was looking down at my feet, trying
to place my next steps to avoid losing a flip flop in
there, and then I heard it. That voice. The door creaked
open and that smooth,accented voice filled the air,
demanding attention. But it wasn't directed to me. It
wouldn't have mattered if it did, for I was steadfast in my
position, frozen as my world crashed around me. I hadn't
expected him. Not now. I turned around stiffly to see him
for the first time since New Year's. His white button down
shirt tucked into his black dockers perfectly,his shoes
clean, and his hair perfectly fixed. It must have taken him
20 minutes to fix it. His bright smile spread across his
face, and immediately I wished it was directed towards me.
I was so lost in that moment, I didn't hear him say hello
to me. I wish I had. Maybe I would have talked to him
then.But before I could realize what was happening, he had
cashed his check and was gone again, leaving only the
strong smell of his cologne, lingering at the checkout
counter, burning my nose. God I wished I could have been
born without a nose at that very moment.That night I stayed
up until the very early morning hours, slaving over my
letter. My letter, the last-ditch effort to tell him how I
really felt. I tried over and over to perfect my thoughts
on paper, but soon realized...that the potential last words
you'll ever say to a person could NEVER be perfect. Not
perfect enough for what I wanted to say to him at least. I
was not content, but rather reluctant to lick the envelope
shut.Then I left it. Mom was in control. No, not Mom,
God.God would help me. I hadn't prayed to Him in forever,
but surely he would listen to a person in such a state of
despair. He knows how much I need him. The week went by
with no word of him, or the deliverance of my letter.Then
through a long story of sleep,defiance, and attitude I got
grounded for a week, losing any ability to stay updated on
my situation. But I did respond via email to a few friends
from Whitewright who go to school with him. Most of them
said " YES He would love to talk to you"..but one said he
did not wish to ever talk to me again. This hurt of course,
but since when did I not go to the source? Since when did I
listen to second person and assume the intentions of
another?That's not me.It just isn't. So I went up to
Whitewright this weekend with every intention of catching a
glimpse of him from the store window, at the shoppe where
he works. I prepared myself for the worst, but begged and
pleaded for the best.And somehow my world got turned back
around, in the most surprising way. Friday night, around
10:30.There I was, my makeup had vanished from my face long
ago, and my hair had been tamed to a ponytail after the
humidity caused it to kink wildly. I'm dozing on the couch,
and I hear the door open.And that same familiar voice, the
voice that silences my thoughts, once again was heard. I
turned to face him, and the shock of my presence was
definitely detectible.But I don't think it was a bad shock.
More of a surprise. After some small talk and a buffering
by Mom, I was able to talk to him alone in his Tahoe,
listening to music and attempting at small talk and general
conversation. He stayed to an unsightly hour and then left,
saying he would not return tomorrow, and he would see us
later. So I was overly content on just seeing him for that
long. I had hopes of seeing him again, but of course I
prepared myself for the worst. And again. It happened
again. 12:30 this time. I was nearly asleep, in that sullen
state of grogginess when I heard an all too familiar whine
of a mazda pickup come within earshot. I jumped to my feet
and ran to the door, half expecting to see a neighbor or
some drunk who'd lost his way home from a party. But no,
this mazda was parked in front of my house. And it was that
unique shade of aqua blue. Yes, it was him. I greeted him
and asked him to come in, and he told me to tell my mom he
was staying, so I did, and then we talked outside for what
seemed like eternity. After the wind got to us, we came
inside and started watching Brazillian soccer. Of course we
watched soccer. He has made me love, appreciate, and look
for it. I am forever searching for late-night soccer games
on TV, preferrably in spanish. There we were, watching this
game, talking like old friends; kindred spirits.Have you
ever felt that senstation on your skin, when a person you
love touches you, even in the most subtle of ways. His
shoulder leaned to mine, and my skin danced in the very
spot, just because he was near. I wanted so badly to look
at him and tell him I loved him right there. But I didn't.
I moved my arm instead.He moved his arm, once again
touching mine. I let it stay there for a while before
offering to get a drink to share. And when I returned,
there he was, laying across the couch. I playfully moved
his legs to resume my spot on the couch, but this was not
on his agenda clearly. He looked at me, touched my arms,
and told me to " come here." WHAT AM I STUPID?! OF COURSE I
DID!! I leaned into him, and felt the heavenly satisfaction
of laying on his chest. His compact, muscular chest.
Protection.Perfection.We stayed in that position for a
while, lost in the trance of each other. Suddenly he kissed
my forehead, and he told me how much he had missed me. How
much he'd wanted to talk to me and how he hadn't meant the
things he said. And then it happened. All at once. He
kissed me. Not just a peck on the lips, a full-blown
conversation of the lips. Everything in me jumped toward
him, and we kissed for what seemed like hours. Tears came
to our eyes as our lips told the story of life without each
other, and the emotions trapped behind pride. We erupted
into that passionate/fast/slow/docile/raging emotion...and
something I'll not mention happened. Something shared only
between two people in the closest of love.Afterwards, he
asked me how we did it. How we could go from one extreme to
the other in such time, as if nothing had ever happened.
How we could go on acting as if we hadn't needed each other
for months, knowing secretly we both desperately needed
each other. My reply? : "Soulmates".


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