A story of opportunity missed.

It was nearing the end of eighth grade and I was walking across campus to my P.E. class when I saw this freckled cutie with an Annie fro. I met her eyes in passing and then forgot about her.

It was nearing the end of summer vacation, before I started the ninth grade. My family was friends with another family that lived across the street from us and 2 houses up. When they would go away on vacation they would pay me to take care of their house, water the plants, take in the paper and mail, etc. It was nearing sunset and I was watering the plants in the front yard. The girl who lived in the house next door was playing basketball with her brother and his friends. The sun was setting behind her and I could not take my eyes off of her. I would discover later that this was the same girl who no longer had the Annie fro. I watered those plants for about 10 minutes while I watched her play basketball, my eyes watering from the sun that was setting behind her. She was fire. She was a phoenix. I was in love.

It was the beginning of the ninth grade. I took a seat in my American History class with Mr. Villalobos(?) and who should sit down in the seat next to mine but the beautiful girl with freckles and green eyes. My heart stopped beating. She asked me if I was the boy who lived across the street from her. My voice was stuck somewhere between my heart and adam's apple. I couldn't speak. So I nodded my head yes. She smiled and returned to talking to her friends.

It was nearing summer again. I had P.E. with two of her friends. I let it slip to them that I liked her. After lunch I was heading to my Spanish class, walking up the stairs who do I see at the railing but the girl who stole my heart. Excitement and fear began to well up within me with each passing step. She was watching me as I aproached her. The fear began to overwhelm the excitement. What do I do? What do I do? These words kept beating into my brain with every excelerated heartbeat. My father had died 6 years ago, I had grown up with my mother and sister. I didn't know what to do. I got closer. She followed my every step. She was going to make fun of me. I knew it. She would pretend to like me then she would make a joke of me in front of all her friends. I was getting closer. My father never taught me what to do. I was afraid of failure. I reached the top of the stairs. I was walking past her. My heart was beating so hard that I could literally feel it's pounding tempo within my head. She says "hi" to me. I hear the voice of this girl from the 2nd grade in my head telling me "You need a bra." My chest begins to feel like lips after a shot of novacaine. I struggle out a "hey" as I walk right by her, barely even looking at her. Her friend from the P.E. class is standing next to her and the friend says to me, "Hello, this is E****!" I'm watching the scene in slow-mo as I keep on walking. She hit her friend and storms into the classroom. As I continue to walk down the hallway, my very being is filled with the feeling of cowardice. I swear to myself that I will talk to her after class.

The bell rings and I am sweating, I'm so scared of talking to her. My feelings for her are so strong that I don't know what to do. What if she rejects me? I'm so insecure about myself that the thought of saying "hi" to her is feeling me with dread. I'm walking down the hallway towards her classroom and the stairs. She exits the classroom and is nearly beside me the entire way to the bus and I try and think of something to say the entire way and nothing seems good enough, so I walk a few steps behind her in silence all the way to the bus. We didn't sit near each other on the bus and I walked about 10 paces behind her up the street until I got to my house.

I never got the courage to talk to her and I was in love with her for years to follow. I found out much later that she hated me. I could see why. I was bound by fear of the unknown. I was afraid of everything. I was afraid of life. I hid from it in video games and fantasy novels. I often wished that I could have been born 1000 years ago in a time of knights and swords.

I often wonder what my life would have been like if I had just stopped and talked with her that day at the top of the stairs outside of Mrs Ferguson's English class. I later found out that she was passionate about acting and art and Pink Floyd. She was the Angela Chase to my Brian Krackow. Except in the end of that show at least he had the courage to tell her how he felt. I never found that courage, but I am getting closer to finding it.

This year has been a journey of self-discovery. The majority of my life has been spent deep within myself, an unwilling participant in the this thing we call life. I'm digging deep. I'm trying to find the source of my melancholy. I'm trying to find a way to be present in the here and now. I'm trying to find that which I have lost. I'm trying to find the spark that makes living fun and not the burden that it is. I am making progress. Slow as it may be. It is coming. I can feel the seeds of consciousness within me. Now all I need to find is the water and sunlight to make them grow, and magic, magic, magic. I need to find the magic of life. That undefined thing that puts a glint in your eye and a smile on your face, that thing called love anf not just any love, the love that only flows from within, not dependent upon anything else in this world. If I can find that, life will once again be a grand adventure.

I will never know the love that might have existed, for however long, between the freckled beauty with the green eyes and myself. However, I can do my best to never allow fear to again come between myself and the possibility of love. The next time that attraction descends upon me with such intense ferocity, I hope to be in a place where I will be able to greet it without fear, insecurity, and self-doubt. In order to do that I must rediscover the magic of love within myself. I must rediscover the joy of life.