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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

An experimental short story about self esteem.

Submitted: August 07, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 07, 2018




Have you ever met a girl whose blue eyes seductively called you? Whose beauty overshadowed the drizzle of the rain? This I felt on 1 day, on the train station where the trains would huff and puff towards its next destination after unloading its weight unto the platform. She was staring into her phone so she didn’t notice my stare towards her. Why did she not notice me? What did the phone have I didn’t? Was it because of its superiority on the IQ it had, how it could adapt to her every requirements but I can’t even change my race. This made me upset as I wish I could touch her, feel the clay that was shaped into such beauty and brought the physical meaning of perfection into our world.

I started to walk towards her, feeling the intense pressure to outrank a thing that was taming her and controlling her. As I got closer, I started to notice she was laughing, laughing at a figure that looked awfully like me, which made sense as it was me. A video that made me embarrassed, made me ever wonder how I could have ever had a chance at a woman, especially a woman of her status and structure. I mean, these videos are real. Aren’t they? So I went to a chair to seat down, sulking at my anxiousness to talk to her.  

“Hello, could I seat there?” came the voice of an angel after some minutes.

I looked up and there she was, the girl I was thinking of, smiling with ease as she waited for an awe struck figure to respond.

“Of course, pardon me” I replied as I shifted to one side.

She sat down and I saw her starting to reach for her bag, expecting a phone to come out.

I asked “What do you think of the weather?”

At that moment, time stopped, I could feel my heart racing laps faster than time itself. Why would a female talk to someone of my caliber, a guy who would probably bring her less entertainment than the device she holds so dearly. I didn’t know what to do but let nature decide the outcome of this crushing atmosphere.

“Well, it’s not exactly my time of day, what about you?” she replied with a soft tone.

“Um… Well, I guess I could say the same” I replied with a monotonic voice that drifted gently into the air.

“What is your name?” I asked.

Which she replied with “And why would I tell a stranger my name?” in a calm manner.

I started to feel at ease and the atmosphere started to unravel into an enjoyable scenery.

I answered “Because this stranger would like to know more about you.”

The woman looked at me with her blue eyes, trying to analyze my body language, hoping to figure out my motives and reasoning for that reply.

“Well, my name is Emily, and who are you?” She said with a kind tone, curious as to unwrap the stranger who made no attempts to hide any intentions.

I replied “my name is Emmanuel and it is nice to meet you.”

She replied with a nod as her phone lit up, welcoming a visitor it had no problems with entrancing. She swiped and swiped and as she did so, I could see that she had more interest in an object that showed to be far better than me.

I felt like a knife had been stabbed in my heart, light flashing, showing me the comparisons between me, a human who was shy and rarely had any degrees with a facial features that would put an ogre to shape, and an object, that was crafted with elegance, smooth edges, purity in the form of white as its color, color changing on the screen, holding a watch to the eyes and telling it to look and never keep in contact with reality.

It vs me. How did I ever think I had a chance? Why did I even try to form a conversation? Clearly, romance was designed to be shown to objects and not me.

I decided to walk forward. My step forming slow movements, I wondered about what I could do to make myself feel better, I wondered about why my worth was undesirable to people, and how unbeneficial I was compared to other things, I wondered…

“Everybody stand back from the train tracks now!!” Cried the voice of a policeman as passenger's looks painted a picture of sadness at the sight of an awful event.

Signed, In.Write

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