Yes! You wear the purple one with the plumes at the hips.
I saw her for only five minutes in the bookstore and it left me feeling a vague sensation of emptiness. She brushed passed me on a long walk, for what seemed endless, to the psychology section, where she stooped over and browsed. Seeing her behind, her form, her captivating body, I felt my heart promptly speed up, I got nervous, I was attracted to this girl and I have not even seen her face, let alone talk to her. But, I guess all attraction starts with physical fascination.
So, as the books enraptured her, I was still staring, in a dazed state, time slowed to a near halt, and I found myself walking towards her. About halfway, I regained my senses and realized that I was too afraid to talk to her. And so, with this cold slap from reality, spirits dropped, hearts panicked, and all I could feel, besides the numbness, was defeat. I started browsing and grabbed the first text I saw entitled “India, A history”. Struggling to regain my courage, I thought, “What if she was one of those girls that were all body and no face, you know, the girls who hypnotize the world with their movements, speeding up hearts, but has a face like a broken mirror, jagged and gloomy?”
Suddenly, as I looked up from India I caught a glimpse of my beloved. She had ceased browsing Freud and Kierkegaard, and made her way towards the front of the store. As I looked out the corner of my eye and then turned my head exclusively toward her, our eyes met for two seconds. I can still remember her short wavy hair, shimmering eyes, and the delicate mouth that returned my smirk with a delightful smile. What hit me like a blow to the stomach is the fact that I may never see her again; I had missed my chance for keeps. O’ glorious face and body, your existence sends shivers down my spine, through my hips and makes my legs tremble. It depresses me to see such beauty and know that in a week’s time I will only remember my joyless immorality, losing her between the dreams of what could have been and the reality of what never was.
Unlike the many images of absolute beauty, I have seen these past few years in movies and photographs, that are captured forever in time, the image of this girl, who consumed my heart for only five minutes out of twenty-three years, will vanish completely. Oh well, I will play the optimist, she will not be the last girl for there is so much beauty in this world, waiting for a cynical embrace.
Things I am siked about...
- - last tattoo before Europe (Wednesday)
- - Sunny weather on its way and all the tennis that the Hopedale courts can handle
- - My newly remembrance of the time my Dad told me a story about how he parachuted into Cambodia on a top secret mission to eliminate a rogue American colonel. He said that his unit wasn't even supposed to be in Cambodia and he battles Vietcong with flamethrowers, but got out of that jam by switching into rock and roll and blasting them away. He said he watched his friends die and that war was hell. The funny thing is that when i asked my Mother about his story she just told me how he was stationed in Okinawa during the war, where a prostitute stole all his money. Oh and the fact that his whole story is a synopsis of Coppola's "Apocalypse Now". Hell maybe it was true, how am I to know, all i got is the memory of the one time my father ever really talked to Jeremy and me, I don't care if it was all lies.