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Surrender by Taylor Triste - [149 words]
Shadow's Adventure by Maritza Vargas Shadow(me) has to find Menchi, her pet dog that oddly looks like a cat, but gets caught up i... [518 words]
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Unfortunate Side Effects by Liz Quinlan Some old English homework. It's lvl 7+, though!!! And I'm afraid its not particularly ... [552 words]
Twine-Stiry 3 Of The Insanities Of Hotel Romm 63 by Bryan King Man is has thoughts of killing himself. [750 words]
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The Phantom Hitchhiker by Liz Quinlan Well. It's about this dude, right... Oh who cares. Read it. Then you'll know. [485 words]
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The Conservatory by Alfredo Velazquez Rodriguez Velazquez Is a short story about a boy who dreams to play the pianoi but has many struggels to get there... [1,502 words]
The Clearing 2001 by Steven Gilbreath Nature has its own way of helping us ease painful memories we were certain would never fade. [1,106 words]
The Cat And The Shotgun-Story 1 Of The Insanities Of Hotel Room 63 by Bryan King A crazy man threatens to kill a woman. [246 words]
The Car An The Shotgun-Acontinuation Of The Cat And The Shotgun by Bryan King The woman is now the crazy man's hostag. [791 words]
The Building (Part One Of ?) by Bradley Grimes A man awakens in a white bed, surrounded by white walls. Clueless as to what lays ... [1,158 words]
The Building(Part 2 Of ?) by Bradley Grimes Phillip Morrison continues his travels through the seemingly endless building. [1,767 words]
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A Letter To The Boy That I Loved.
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TITLE (EDIT)
A Letter To The Boy That I Loved.
DESCRIPTION
Something that I wrote while I was trying to get over a guy.
[848 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Romance
AUTHOR
The Lost Girl
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I am a science student with no experience with creative writing (since early highschool). This is the first thing I have ever written and I wondered if it was any good. Please read and give me some feedback, I appreciate any comments!
[May 2005]
A Letter To The Boy That I Loved.
The Lost Girl


For a long time I was confused about how I felt about you. It must have been July, or August last year, or maybe even before that, when I began thinking about you. You were a friend-of-a-friend, and so we were introduced. I canít remember exactly when we met, but I remember thinking that you were a whole lot more like me than you were like any person Iíd ever met. I didnít - and still donít, know you very well, but you seemed to be more like me than Iíd ever anticipated.

My life at this point was boring. Dead, dull, lacklustre and lifeless. It was a season of restlessness. I lacked attention and craved it. My moroseness made me the very object of avoidance to my friends. But time was ripening, and something was afoot.

They said to me one day; had I ever considered you? And I paused and pondered. I donít think I ever said outright that I did like you at that point, but suddenly I became interesting, and worthy of mention. And so it began.

This followed with a period when I was around you quite often, and so I grew to know you a little better. But you were a closed book. I became friends with your friends, but mine would hardly see me. I would see you about town, sometimes I was out with you, and sometimes you were with your own friends. I would dance with you and imagine that it meant something when your hand accidentally brushed mine. I would be jealous when you danced with someone else. But how you saw me through your own eyes was something I was not to know.
Whenever someone said how alike we were in tastes I would cling to that, and exaggerate our connection in my mind. I existed in a half state of knowing and denying that I liked you.

I put effort into making it known that I liked you to those around me, and they encouraged me, to some extent, they did. They said that we were so alike; we were made for each other.
But I was too shy, and so were you. My advances were subtle, and to them you were not receptive. I flitted like a hummingbird before you, but I was too quick for you to admire.
But you didnít notice.

So I decided things between you and I had stagnated (unbeknownst to you) and would never come to fruition, and proceeded to distract myself with the labours of study. Then I met someone else. Quickly I was carried away it was so easy. I didnít have to think, to agonise Ė he came to me. I didnít see you for a while; the new boy was everything. I thought I had met someone who truly understood me with all my quirks and flaws. Oh how quick sand escapes through your fingers, the tighter you grasp, the faster it goes. He faded and disappeared before I had even realised heíd gone. I cried one tear, but didnít mourn. The memory of you had left a charred scar on my heart, where I had tried and failed. But it still burned, a faint red ember.
I encountered you again a few weeks later and we hung out. Over the course of a few days, my memory of you was abruptly refreshed. The glow of your eyes and the wide smile that you reserved for me. I remembered your quirky sense of humour, and the rapport that we sometimes had. But the year was over and spring was merging into summer. You left, but I didnít forget you.

Over the summer we didnít speak much, and the new year began, unremarkably and without aplomb. I made resolutions I wouldnít keep. To get out more and leave my malaise behind, and for a few weeks I did.
I returned to my second home in February, eager to begin the new semester. There were parties and concerts to go to. With our similar tastes we saw each other often, and were friends again. The embers of my mind glowed. We talked long hours, and you laughed at jokes I made. We shared that look Ė our look.

That one night I was just so overwhelmed with feeling that I had to tell you how I felt. It wasnít your fault you didnít care for me. You tried to be gentle, and I tried to understand. But my sense of loss was acute, debilitating.
For a while I trivialised the hurt, and buried it. We stayed friends. But every time I you looked at me with those golden eyes and flashed me the secret smile, it bubbled to the surface and I imploded, the feelings unbearable. Eventually I told you to go, and let me exist on my own.
Over time the embers faded, and life went on. But when I see you, the camaraderie is gone, and the smile leaves a taste of bitterness on my tongue.
I will never forget the times we shared, or regret what could have been.

Sincerely yours,

the lost girl.

      

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2005 The Lost Girl
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
May 2005
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1959
 

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