Childhood Loss

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Once again, it seems, an ordinary boy falls in love with a girl that he once had something special with.

Submitted: January 24, 2013

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Submitted: January 24, 2013




It was one of those situations when I thought about her all the time. She was there when I awoke in the morning, the one I woke up for. She nestled into my thoughts during the day as I saw sights and heard music that reminded me of her. And lastly, she was there as I drifted happily off into sleep as I imagined her warm, soft body being right there beside me, so close my fingertips would brush on her tanned, bare back.


Of course, we did talk, but never face-to-face. Not anymore. Our precious and lovely friendship we had throughout our childhood had whittled away to nothing more than the harsh reality of our few messages being conveyed between us through Facebook. I treasured each and every letter she had typed out to me – but it wasn’t enough. Nothing ever had been, when it came to her, even that close bond as children had felt too little at the time, even though I would kill for it, nowadays.


We were twelve when we were at our closest – I was buzzing with strange and mysterious emotions. She was the first one I ever really wanted to kiss, to hold, to be with. Obviously, I had been friend-zoned from the very beginning. She was an early bloomer; even in her very clumsy twelve-year-old way, she was beautiful. Long legs, big eyes, a warm summery complexion – it’s almost funny how those are the things I still love most about her, even now. Oh, and her smell. Coconut and lilies and sweat. God, I miss her.


I wasn’t as attractive, needless to say. I had rowdy too-long black hair; deep, silver-spectacle-framed eyes; a mouth too small for the rest of my face. Not to mention my utterly muscle-less frame. I was pretty ugly, but I didn’t care, not back then. Back then, I had her.






Cut back to me being seventeen, and it’s now the highlight of my pathetic day, seeing her in the school halls, one of the only things left that we actually share – and it’s with about a thousand other students. On this particular day, however, things are different. Not she-sees-me-and-rips-her-clothes-off-different, but we speak. Our first word in nearly five words and it’s-


I looked down to see her white blouse stained by the purple diet-juice she had just ripped the cap off, and suddenly realize my guilt as I spring backwards, away from her little frame in which I had just knocked. She glares up at me, but softens as she recognizes the terribly dorky and awkward face she has just caught sight of.
What the He- Oh.”
“I’m really sorry. Shit. Shit. Uhm, yeah. Crap.”
“No, no, uhh. Don’t worry about it. I think I have a spare tank top in my locker, anyways.”


And just like that, our first conversation face-to-face in five years has ended.


But fuck it. We just spoke!



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