Serious Loss: Part 2 of 3

A loss of innocent seems inevitable in the harsh reality of the dirt we live on. I still mourn for my youthful naiveté.

A heart once torn will heal, and the scar tissue becomes a protective seal.

A second lasting loss in my life, in any young girl’s life, happened in 6th grade. I met and lost the love of my pre-teen life. I met RC, his smile endeared me. He would take second and third glances at me in math class. He became the soul reason for me to try in that horrid subject.

No one ever took a second glance at little mousy me. My timid nature did not draw the spotlight, and my hesitancy to meet another’s eyes put people off. Not RC, he smiled with a dimple and tried to help me with those problems that have numbers and letters. He even coaxed a few smiles from my blushing face. 

I never spoke about my crush, and I was not even a novice in the game of flirting. A blonde,  blue eyed vixen was added to the xlass, and I lost him. I lost him before I had a chance to hold his hand or get my first kiss. I lost my perfect first kiss, and another layer of innocence was pealed off.

What was worse, she was genuinely kind and sweet. I learned to channel, quietly inside, my emerald gaze of jealousy. And although I moved onward and forward, I always regretted not expressing myself better or being more direct. A teenage crush, a big loss in a girl’s life.

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Writing 101: Sept. 22 GIVE AND TAKE

Frenemies, a relationship of give and take.

Hope and Despair can be more than opposing forces, they can at time be the best of friends. How can one have Hope in hand if they’ve never felt the nature of Despair?

Hope walked in with a swagger to her hips, smiling like a chesire cat, she said, “Well, well, well, I knew I’d find you here Desi.”

Despair’s shoulders sagged under that smile, whispering to herself, “Just my luck…the luminescent whore…”, then louder she said, “Of course old friend, I go and you walk in. It’s a tag team effort” sarcasm was an old threadbare comfort on her whipped back. The tattoos on her skin itched when she was faced with Hope’s beauty.

“I remember the Depression was a booming time for your little tricks, but now I’m here to raise the people once again,” Hope spoke with an iridescent bubble of happiness in her voice, ready with a hug for her best friend.

“Oh yes,” sarcastically Despair responded, “I get nothing but showers of tears and heartache so melancholic, that I burp them back up for weeks. You are smothered in ecstatic cheers and solemn vows to endure me and cherish you.” Dodging this woman’s touchy-feely crap was a 24hour job, ugh!

Hiccupping her tears away, Despair gathered her purse and paid for her drink. She slipped on her shoes and stumbled out the darkened bar room, not forgetting to toss a “Farewell Bitch” in Hope’s direction.

Hope, sighing with acceptance, began to turn on the lights and throw open the windows, with determination she uttered, “Today is a new day, and that kind of language is not to be repeated.”

Hope began to transform the dark, dense mood into one of light and tenacity. Singing and humming she began her tune, “Rain, rain go away. Come again another day. Rain, rain stay away, Desi says goodbye!” Laughing in the evanescent gloom, Hope continued to wash away the cobwebs from the shelves and the pictures of Joy, Love, Chance, and Serendipity.