history
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Dear, History Parker
I remember the first time I saw you. You were outside in the prohibited section of the flower clubs garden-you know the part only the teacher should enter- with a cigarette logged in-between your lips. You didn’t look like trouble but that didn’t stop you from doing what you shouldn’t. I heard that you were the new kid-the newest kid we’d had in days but still the new kid-you weren’t special but you were unique enough to stick-out. I could never forget the first time I heard your voice it was beautiful-your voice was sweet and velvety like a cool summers breeze- I’ll never tell you how many times I silently thanked Mrs. Bishop for telling you to introduce yourself to the class, and I couldn’t possibly ever forget that when I heard your name I found my new favorite subject. You were the kind of beautiful that reminded me of a poisons flower. You talked only when you wanted someone to listen and you voiced your opinion. History Parker what a beautiful person you are frightfully and dreadfully so.
I remember the first time we talked like it was yesterday-it was an accident but still one of the happiest days of my life-we were in the hallway and you stopped to help me pick up my books that fell after I got pushed into my locker. You said hey and I-getting lost in the moment- asked if I could ask you a question. I can still recall the way your face fell when I questioned you but you still-reluctantly-said yes. I asked if you liked history and to my surprise you laughed-your breathing smile returning to your face-and chuckled out how much you despised it-I’ll never tell you this but I stopped paining attention in history class after you said that-and after you stopped laughing you thanked me and walked away.
Looking back on are time together I realized-quite some time ago-that I never really knew what was expected from being in love. Yeah, I loved everything about you. Stalked your Facebook page, and tried to spend as much time with you as I could but was that not all I should have done? Was there more I was missing? I think like that a lot-there’s so many what if’s in my mind I give myself migraines-wondering if I did a better job with being in love with you than maybe you would still be with me. But then I remember things like are first kiss-the way electric shot through my veins-and I don’t think I could have did any better with loving you.
It may sound so clichéd but the year you were in my life was undoubtedly the best year of my life. This will sound even more princess-less prince but I cried myself to sleep every night after I found out you left and no one knew were you were. I like to lie to myself-a lot- and think that if we had said a proper goodbye than I wouldn’t still love you, but I know that’s the biggest lie I’ve believed in years. So in a shorted less wordy way I still love you and I don’t think I could ever stop. This thing we created some years ago is bigger than I can control and I can only hope-wish-you feel that way too. I want-wish I could-hate you but it’s an impossible, illogical, irrational ideal that runs through my brain once every hour. I wish I could say that I needed you like some addicting drug but you weren’t that kind to me you were more like a disease that spread quick leaving me breathless in a matter of seconds. Sadly there was no cure and baby you started killing my slowly.
I hope this letter reaches you well someone said you moved back to town, so all I hope is that you moved back into the corner house on apple lane. I don’t mean to sound like a clingy love-struck teen girl lost in a summer romance but that’s just how you made me feel. I don’t know what I want to accomplish by writing this to you but I hope you kind of feel this way too.
I remember the first time I saw you. You were outside in the prohibited section of the flower clubs garden-you know the part only the teacher should enter- with a cigarette logged in-between your lips. You didn’t look like trouble but that didn’t stop you from doing what you shouldn’t. I heard that you were the new kid-the newest kid we’d had in days but still the new kid-you weren’t special but you were unique enough to stick-out. I could never forget the first time I heard your voice it was beautiful-your voice was sweet and velvety like a cool summers breeze- I’ll never tell you how many times I silently thanked Mrs. Bishop for telling you to introduce yourself to the class, and I couldn’t possibly ever forget that when I heard your name I found my new favorite subject. You were the kind of beautiful that reminded me of a poisons flower. You talked only when you wanted someone to listen and you voiced your opinion. History Parker what a beautiful person you are frightfully and dreadfully so.
I remember the first time we talked like it was yesterday-it was an accident but still one of the happiest days of my life-we were in the hallway and you stopped to help me pick up my books that fell after I got pushed into my locker. You said hey and I-getting lost in the moment- asked if I could ask you a question. I can still recall the way your face fell when I questioned you but you still-reluctantly-said yes. I asked if you liked history and to my surprise you laughed-your breathing smile returning to your face-and chuckled out how much you despised it-I’ll never tell you this but I stopped paining attention in history class after you said that-and after you stopped laughing you thanked me and walked away.
Looking back on are time together I realized-quite some time ago-that I never really knew what was expected from being in love. Yeah, I loved everything about you. Stalked your Facebook page, and tried to spend as much time with you as I could but was that not all I should have done? Was there more I was missing? I think like that a lot-there’s so many what if’s in my mind I give myself migraines-wondering if I did a better job with being in love with you than maybe you would still be with me. But then I remember things like are first kiss-the way electric shot through my veins-and I don’t think I could have did any better with loving you.
It may sound so clichéd but the year you were in my life was undoubtedly the best year of my life. This will sound even more princess-less prince but I cried myself to sleep every night after I found out you left and no one knew were you were. I like to lie to myself-a lot- and think that if we had said a proper goodbye than I wouldn’t still love you, but I know that’s the biggest lie I’ve believed in years. So in a shorted less wordy way I still love you and I don’t think I could ever stop. This thing we created some years ago is bigger than I can control and I can only hope-wish-you feel that way too. I want-wish I could-hate you but it’s an impossible, illogical, irrational ideal that runs through my brain once every hour. I wish I could say that I needed you like some addicting drug but you weren’t that kind to me you were more like a disease that spread quick leaving me breathless in a matter of seconds. Sadly there was no cure and baby you started killing my slowly.
I hope this letter reaches you well someone said you moved back to town, so all I hope is that you moved back into the corner house on apple lane. I don’t mean to sound like a clingy love-struck teen girl lost in a summer romance but that’s just how you made me feel. I don’t know what I want to accomplish by writing this to you but I hope you kind of feel this way too.
In much unreturned love, Arlen Grey