in love with a boy.

I am invited to a family outing of some sorts. We’re all heading to the family’s car, and three or four little kids grab super soakers and squirt each other. I grab a smaller squirt gun and join in, always keeping my eye on the quiet boy ahead. I’ve always thought he was more of an outgoing guy. He’s always rocking out with his friends, making jokes and talking loud. But today he is introspective, walking slowly along the lake, gazing out at the ripples of water.

We get in the car and the drive seems instantaneous. We get out and there is a giant monument. I’m wondering what’s up when the boy walks ahead. I walk after him, but the littler ones follow me, wanting to ditch the monument and play. I shake them off, and follow him up a winding staircase.

Along the way, I notice there are index cards with poetry written on them taped to the wall. I also notice there are many blank index cards. So I abandon my stalking of the boy to write a poem:

In a body I can’t control

In a world that doesn’t listen

Point me to the end of the maze

My problem has risen

Shrugging at it’s mediocre-ness, I continue to walk up the stairs. I stop halfway up and look out over the lake. I happen to glance down and notice the boy hanging off the side of the monument. I know this may be a great chance to talk, and so I hop over the edge and hang next to him. This is hard for me as my muscles are weak, but his are strong, and they seem to flex just for me.

“You like poetry?” I ask him, squirming just a bit. He nods and glances at me. “Yeah.” I ask him if he’s written any  poetry on this monument. He doesn’t answer. I jump off the edge.

As I sit at the bottom, contemplating my next move, he walks down the stairs, holding an index card. He reads aloud the poem:

In a body I can’t control

In a world that doesn’t listen

Point me to the end of the maze

My problem has risen

He asks me, “Did you write this?”. I nod in reply.  He folds it up and tucks it into his shirt pocket, patting the chest that I wish to lay my head on. He smiles, and I smile back.

I seem to blink, and suddenly I find myself in class the next day. I’m sitting with my friends, who are all loud and obnoxious, but I’m looking for the boy. I see him with his friends, a few tables away, and he sits writing while his buds try to sink baskets with their rolled-up homework. He looks  up, smiles at me. I blush and smile back. He continues to write.

The teacher wants us to perform our projects. The assignment was to write an original song on an instrument you know. It didn’t have to include words. The teacher calls upon the boy, and he grabs his guitar and walks to the front of the class. His song doesn’t have a name, but tells us that it’s about a girl. His friends catcall.

As he sings, I’m lost in his voice, but all the time wondering who this magic girl could be. I’m let down that he doesn’t love me as I love him. But then he gets to the chorus:

In a body I can’t control

In a world that doesn’t listen

Point me to the end of the maze

My problem has risen

These are the words she said to me

In an unspeakable way

She’ll be my life forever

Everywhere and every way

A tear slides down my cheek. He finishes the song and the room erupts in applause. He starts to walk to his seat, but changes direction so he can walk past me. I put my hand up to brush his. He smiles. I smile.

I wake up.


~ by junkinmahcranium on June 29, 2009.

6 Responses to “in love with a boy.”

  1. Is this a real dream you had? It’s a good story. But you jumped off after climbing winding stairs? it seamed like it was to high to jump off without getting hurt, But I guess if it was a real dream then that would be okay. =)

  2. stumbled upon your blog.
    nice story,good luck from spain. keep on writing.

  3. this is an awesome story. i wish i had dreams like this 🙂

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