My life in the 11th grade was one of suffering and complete disillusionment. At this time, the global economic recession was at it's peak and had now found its way into my family, putting us on the brink of poverty. There was no bright side, no light at the end of the tunnel, I felt a tremendous weight about to come crashing down upon me at any moment in time. The worst part: I had a crush on a girl, but I knew for certain that the feelings were, and would never be, mutual. Not only was going through an existential crisis, but the girl of my dreams was taken by the type of guy I could never be, a baseball player.
I am certain of my good qualities, one could say that they are even unique; however, these qualities of eccentricity and love for good music and literature would never translate to this girl. Of course, she had substance, but with her type of "exotic" beauty, she could have had anyone she wanted. Hell! I didn't even want a relationship, I just wanted to be close to her, have that special moment with her where I wouldn't be thinking about anything else, and many other things I'd rather not disclose in this blog, but what could I do?
During the Spring Break of 11th grade, my friends and I rode out to a party, nothing special, probably because they never were, and because there was nothing better to do, I mean there never was anything to do. Nevertheless, my star-crossed lover was at the party, and apparently she had broken up with her boyfriend earlier that night...this was my chance. I mean, I had to do something. That night, I somehow ended up in a room with her, alone. She was smoking from the hookah that was placed in the middle of the floor, the milky white smoke funneling perfectly from her pursed lips...my god, the sight alone left my jaw on the floor. Anyway, I tried to be as smooth as possible at this point, made a little small talk, gave as many compliments as possible without making my motives too obvious. Essentially, I told her how I felt, she listened, and just as I expected...rejection! Of course, she was nice about it, but the crux of the matter was that "I blew it," I told my friend Nick.
I wanted to alleviate my anxieties and disillusionment, and I knew that getting somewhere with "her" would, at best, relieve it temporarily. Leaving the party, I told my friend Nick of my failures and all he could say to console me was, "Would you really have it any other way"? I thought about this response for a moment, and suddenly realized the fact that I really would never have "it", my life, any other way. I loved my life, even though, nothing seemed to go my way. I succeeded in not succeeding. There was something very Woody Allen-esque about my situation, and for some strange reason I really enjoyed that. My flux is different, and instead of having negative looming thoughts about it, I have learned to embrace it. As fate would have it, "she" got back together with her boyfriend that very night, and I'm sure he did nothing romantic or even tried that hard to do so. But as for me, I didn't really care where I fit in that equation, it didn't matter. I knew that..
Somewhere, some type of "love", whether it be true or false, will find all of us in the end.
