Holland
introduction.
I knew her for one week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty eight hours. Ten thousand and eighty minutes. Six hundred and four thousand and eight hundred minutes. I knew her for one week and in that one week, I fell so in love with her. Each day was spent between us, falling more and more in love than we were. It was crazy to think that I fell so strongly for someone in one simple week, but that one week meant the world to me.
Those seven days would always be a part of me. They were what made me who I am. She taught me how to love and for that, I would always be thankful. For that one week, nothing else mattered but her and I. It was a week filled with passion and romance, one that ended with love. I loved her and I always would love her more than life itself.
Nothing else mattered to us for that one week. The fact that I was engaged to my girlfriend of three years, who yes, I did eventually end things with, didn't matter, nor did it matter that she had been married for two years. We made our own world in that week, consisting of just the two of us.
At the time, I thought it was silly of me to write these days down in a journal, but now I'm more than thankful for it. As I grow older and older, I'm able to pass this on to my children and they can give it to their children and so on and so forth. I wanted the story of her and I to live on, despite the fact that it wasn't publicized. I wanted my family to know how I fell in live with the one girl I'd only ever really loved. Looking back on that week, I cheerish the memories we made. I cheerish every kiss, every touch, and every word we ever shared.
I was happy to be able to share my story with those I cared for and when I was asked to share my story with the world, part of me didn't want to. It was my own story to keep and it was the part of her that I knew. I didn't want to share her with anyone. But at the same time, I wanted the world to see the girl that I knew and that I fell in love with. How anyone managed to remember me or even find me was astounding, but she always had her secrets.
So that was how I ended up sitting in a room with four red walls and pale brown carpet. There was not only a camera there recording me, but a tape recorder and four people sitting around me. My journal from that week was sitting in my lap. The book was worn and looked old and I smiled as I opened the front page, seeing the faded mark of her lipstick kiss she put there all those years ago. The tips of my fingers ran over it and suddenly, memories flooded back to me.
The man directly across from me said my name to the camera and what I was doing, then he mentioned something about her death, which nearly broke my heart all over again. He then looked at me, along with everyone else in the room. Finally, I let out a breath and opened my mouth to speak.
"I'm John O'Callaghan and I'm here to tell about the week I spent falling in love with Blair Holland."
Those seven days would always be a part of me. They were what made me who I am. She taught me how to love and for that, I would always be thankful. For that one week, nothing else mattered but her and I. It was a week filled with passion and romance, one that ended with love. I loved her and I always would love her more than life itself.
Nothing else mattered to us for that one week. The fact that I was engaged to my girlfriend of three years, who yes, I did eventually end things with, didn't matter, nor did it matter that she had been married for two years. We made our own world in that week, consisting of just the two of us.
At the time, I thought it was silly of me to write these days down in a journal, but now I'm more than thankful for it. As I grow older and older, I'm able to pass this on to my children and they can give it to their children and so on and so forth. I wanted the story of her and I to live on, despite the fact that it wasn't publicized. I wanted my family to know how I fell in live with the one girl I'd only ever really loved. Looking back on that week, I cheerish the memories we made. I cheerish every kiss, every touch, and every word we ever shared.
I was happy to be able to share my story with those I cared for and when I was asked to share my story with the world, part of me didn't want to. It was my own story to keep and it was the part of her that I knew. I didn't want to share her with anyone. But at the same time, I wanted the world to see the girl that I knew and that I fell in love with. How anyone managed to remember me or even find me was astounding, but she always had her secrets.
So that was how I ended up sitting in a room with four red walls and pale brown carpet. There was not only a camera there recording me, but a tape recorder and four people sitting around me. My journal from that week was sitting in my lap. The book was worn and looked old and I smiled as I opened the front page, seeing the faded mark of her lipstick kiss she put there all those years ago. The tips of my fingers ran over it and suddenly, memories flooded back to me.
The man directly across from me said my name to the camera and what I was doing, then he mentioned something about her death, which nearly broke my heart all over again. He then looked at me, along with everyone else in the room. Finally, I let out a breath and opened my mouth to speak.
"I'm John O'Callaghan and I'm here to tell about the week I spent falling in love with Blair Holland."
♠ ♠ ♠
The idea is based off of My Week With Marilyn, but the events aren't the same.