The One I let Get Away
In grade 3 the most beautiful girl to ever live came to my class. She had the most radiant blonde hair that waved in the air when the wind. Blue eyes were blue like the sea and when she looked at me they told me they she wanted me, or that she was degusted of me, either or see was still looking at me. Her body…let’s face it wasn’t the best she was in grade 3 and extremely creepy to talk about a 10 year old body like that. Her voice was like a siren how it drew me in but there were not any sharp jagged rocks for me to sail into. I told myself that she would be my wife and that we would have kids together, and she would always be faithful to me, but when I asked her out (stared at her then mumbled a few words) she rejected me. This rejection made me go into a melancholy state.
I remember just straying at her intoxicating face and whispering “my precious.” I thought if I did this should eventually see me and start liking me because of my attractive gaze. Starting up awkward conversation with her (mumbling a few words then leaving) was another method I used to try and get her to want to be with me more than the Jonas brothers. Her perspective of my gaze and enthusiastic conversation probably came off as I was a confident guy who was sexy and was a total player. Every time I try to lay my arousing moves on her, she would just be like “EEEEEEEW” run away and look like she just got attacked by a beast of grotesque hoarer. I don’t understand why she does this; all girls want to date me and me giving her an invitation to date, so should wouldn’t have to compete with all the other girls who want me.
I decide to give up one her because I decided she deserved a break from my provoking flirts, or because she left the school and I didn’t get any contact info, mostly because of her leaving the school. Sometimes I just stray at my old school photos of her and I fantasize about what are lives could have been like if she had stayed at FFCA. I remember all the great times me and her had through all of the 7 years I had known her for. I remember all the fun times we had like her slapping me because I was creeping her out because of my gaze or me drooling over a picture of her and her getting scared of me. Now I’m sitting here staring at a photo blowing smoke out the window and saying to myself, “the one I let get away.”
Recent Comments