Paul

My first everything

I never really went out as a college student too much. I took college and my course
seriously. I was serious about learning more on how to analyze books, researching and
applying concepts. Learning the skills and seeing frameworks and perspectives outside in
the story tale world. I only ever went out , as in, in the night dressed up, every now and
again.

I found going out on the town a kind of pressuring experience. You had to put in a serious
amount of effort to fit in. I did it of course, but I didn’t like it too much. Sometimes, I found
out, the less I tried, the better and less pressured experience I ended up having.

One night it was Halloween. I dressed up as a witch. I loved Halloween. I put a good
amount of time and effort into my costume. An enjoyable amount.

It was a messy night though. Very busy. Hard to get a taxi home, so we had to wait around
for things to quieten down and we waited outside of Burger King.

A strange kind of occurrence happened. These bunch of boys started fighting. Nothing too
wild or frightening but they were having agro like.

Then I saw this pale faced, gorgeous brown eyed boy staring at me.

He wasn’t staring at the fight like everyone else. He was staring at me and I welcomed it.

Because I was dressed up as a witch, I felt mischievous. Playful. Different. Confident when
I really wasn’t. He asked my name, and I told him my name was Crystal. Can you foretell
the surname I gave him?

Hehehhe

He didn’t talk to me much at all. Just stared. It was his tall friend that was leading the
conversation. But he was razor focused just on me. And I honestly (no offense) didn’t care
about his friend at all. I liked his attention very much. Paul’s. Even though he didn’t say
anything at all for ages. He was like that overall too, once I got to know him better.

Quiet but not not confident. Quiet and insiderish, and methodical and reserved. Old
fashioned even. There wasn’t one thing at all at all that I didn’t like about him. Even the stuff
I didn’t like, I liked because it was him.
Once the fight died down and the boys that were fighting ended up being best buddies for
life afterwards, we all ended up in a big circle talking about everything. A huge group of us.

Paul ended up next to me, at the side of my right shoulder and I haven’t a single clue what
we talked about only that I was absolutely fine with him standing next to me and just being
there.

There was a intense connection between us. Always was. Our tension went on for nearly 3
years. 3 intense years. I wouldn’t ever say it was a happy 3 years, but I loved him anyway.
Then. There was a kind of ‘responsibility’ element to the love. And anyone that knows
responsibility knows its takes work and work isn’t always enjoyable but it is always worth it
or the effort does anyway, if it is efforted correctly. The work was worth it anyway and an
effort but the love was something of its own accord. It didn’t last or make it past the 3 years.
Both of us had stuff we kept undercover, even unbeknownst to ourselves. It’s only looking
back now where you could pinpoint areas where it went astray or wrong. Lack of truth and
honesty for one. I never told him how much he meant to me. It wasn’t like I was playing hard
to get. But I was nervous about telling him exactly what I felt and how he made me feel. We
didn’t even make it to the stage of asking for what we wanted. It was majorly intense
though. Not sure I liked it but it was what it was.

I liked him for exactly who he was, what he was about and a few bits in between. But our
stuff, and his stuff, got in the way. The way of anything more. I didn’t like how that made me
feel. I enjoyed the responsibility stuff even though at times it wasn’t enjoyable. I enjoyed
liking him. I enjoyed meeting him. I enjoyed his mates who he was really close with.

I enjoyed him absolutely.

But it didn’t make it past the test. Or the balancing of our scales. Our stuff. For many
reasons and yes some of those reasons were mine and his.

Isn’t it funny how uncomplicated the beautiful intensity was, but it never turned out to be
anything more but a past story to tell.

A relationship project, never meeting the end result after an intense build. After intense
workmanship. An intense and expected projections and promises. Undeveloped.
Unmarketed. Unpublished. Not so much failure. But just …..unfulfilled?

Paul

My first everything

I wrote that at the beginning.

But it didn’t make it to everything.

It was an intense something though.

Something, a lot.

And it mattered to me anyway.

Even as a something.

Not quite a success.

But an unexpected attempt of one.

One that had to potential to be one.

But didn’t.

And that’s ok too.

And it took me a very long time to get over that kind of something.

So it wasn’t a nothing.

I can see it from this place, as a something.

An important something.

End.