Of course I still can't get the image of Anne out of my mind. Not that I would want to... ever! I've engrained as much as I can remember of that moment. There's so many ways to describe the way I felt, and still feel right now, about this. I know I'm making a big thing out of this, but it's to the point that thinking about this makes me tingly up and down my arms and back. I get that feeling when a part of your body falls asleep and it feels like little tingles are running up and down your body as the blood flows back in. That's how I feel. OK, I know what your thinking, that means your in love. I'm not in love, though I would allow myself to be in an instant if she, Anne, gave me any sign that the feelings were mutual.
I did a little bit more walking down memory lane tonight. For some reason I got this idea to look at my old elementary school class pictures. I think that I'm too much of a romantic when I look at the faces. I look and part of me goes back there, back through time. I'm not there there, but a part of me exists in every moment of time that I've lived in. That must be what ghosts are, a moment in time that carries the essence of a certain person or time. I'm so sleepy right now. Well, it is 1:30 in the morning and I'm typing up my problems down on this electronic jounal. Still, I think that's why I signed up... right? Right! I think I'm getting delirious in my tiredness. Wow, couldn't I have come up with a better word than tiredness? It's too late to think.
Food sucks the big one. I hate everything in the fridge, and I'm eating way bad. That prompted an examination from my grandmother, who thinks that a person doesn't eat when they are sick. She thinks I'm sick then. I'm sick of food. But, as I think about it right now, I'm just a little lonely, a little hurt and a little tired. OK, the tired is a normal thing for me, seeing as I seem to always be up past 2am nowadays. The loneliness has made me do some pretty stupid things as of late. I'm grasping at straws when it comes to relationships. I always dreamed of finding a girl who loved the same things I did, but not only that. I've dremt of running into this perfect girl, one that I have an instant rapport with. I haven't found that just yet. I really do fear that I never will. I feel that I can't really put my heart out there anymore because it finds a way of getting kicked around. Which makes me think of the many crushes I've had over the years. Practically all of them have been unrequited, which someone I know says is the most pure form of love. Great, so I'm pure... where has that gotten me? I'll tell you where, Aloneville.
I think back to my first love, unrequited as it was. In deeper thoughts I tell myself that things would have been different for me if she had reciprocated my love for her. Well, duh, of course things would have been different... things would have been different if I woke up at 10 this morning as apposed to 9. I just think of her sometimes. All the time really. I think of her as a place that you used to love to visit when you were a kid but then is torn down. You can never go back to that place, ever, except in your memories... your dreams. Like Otis Redding said, I have dreams to remember. I have her eyes to remember too. I can see them now, right above my computer where I see them each day. The photo is no longer black and white, but rather a sepia and gray mixture. I've noticed that the paper also has a few cracks in it, as to make it look like one of those old oil paintings. Apropos because I think of her as a masterpiece. I know that I'll love her for the rest of my life, no matter what. And I think there lies part of my problem. I've let go of almost everything from a life long ago, a life time ago, except her. So much so that when I think of high school now I only think of the moment I first saw her, and the ephemeral seconds that I had her near me. It's nearly 2am and I'm really dead tired. Then why do I stay? My eyes aren't even open at this moment, I hope I'm spelling everything right. I know MFC will never know how I've held her in my mind for all this time. She has remained perfect in my mind, never aging, never deadened in any way. To borrow a line from "The Great Gatsby," all I've ever wanted was to wed my unutterable vision of her perishable breath, my mind would never romp again like the mind of God. I relate to Jay Gatsby a lot in that I too love a woman who will not be mine. And so like Gatsby I wait for the moment when this all ends and my spirit floats up and is absorbed into the fabric of the universe. These thoughts that I have written here will be the only record of my existance and of my feelings.