poems / m.e

01

"Matthew, go check if the email has arrived" this is the request of everyday from my mother.

"Are we expecting a letter or something?" I asked her, obviously knowing what she meant about email, but I'm trying to make her believe that I think it's not a big deal.

"Sweetie," she says taking a long breath before continuing her sentence, "you know what we are expecting. Your college applications!" why is she so excited about it?

College applications, college applications, college applications.

My parents don't talk about something else other than that. It's annoying. I get it, they want to see me finally accomplishing things other than the things that I've been accomplishing my whole life at school. I'm a little excited too just because I'll be finally living the real world now, but lately I'm very unhappy.

What my parents want for me is to become either the greatest football player of all time, or the greatest lawyer of all time. Can I even say it like that? Well, no. But you get my point. Don't get me wrong, I love football. Actually, I've been a part of the team since freshman year until senior year. The coach said I had great potential for it, and I have to admit football has become a part of my life. I love playing football, watching football, talking about football. But that's not what I want to do for the rest of my life.

My life has usually been planned by both of my mother and father. Even when I was ten years old, they would organize my life without even bothering if I agreed. And the fact that I was ten doesn't change a thing.

They simply don't care about my opinion.

Ever since I was a kid I had a passion, and a passion only: books. My parents never realized how many books I read in a week, and that's because they don't even realize I have books. The books I have I bought them myself, but the first book I got was a gift from my uncles, Ed and Claire. That book is actually my favorite one, is about poetry. Poems are my favorite and my uncles knew that, I wrote some but they suck. The only person who read one of mine is Claire, she told me it was really good, but I was six, I'm sure she was lying to make me feel good. Then I remembered, Claire never lied. My uncles were a big inspiration and they still are, but now they're in heaven. Three years ago they passed away because of a car accident. They taught me everything I know, they taught how to be a good person. I could say I lived with them for a few years, my parents had to travel a lot because of their job.

I sighed in annoyance because the last thing I wanted was for those college applications to be finally here. We live in an apartment, so when we want to know if the email is here we have to talk to Mr. Corse. He's like the building manager, he's been working here since 1974. He has almost 80 years old, I love that man.

"Hello Matthew, how are you?" he said standing up to hug me.

I hugged him back, "I'm fine, how about you Mr. Corse?"

"I told you to call me Stanley!" he said laughing.

I laughed as well, "does the email for the apartment 101 has arrived?"

"Let me check" he said walking towards the email receiver "I'm afraid not."

"Thank God" I said silently while breathing in relief, "well, bye Stanley, thank you" I smiled and he smiled back. He has a nice moustache, maybe I should grow my own.

I was heading towards the elevator, thinking what am I going to tell my parents, I can't stand this anymore. Until I heard Mr. Corse calling my name again.

"Excuse me Matthew, could you give this letter to Miss Brooks? She lives in the apartment 103"

"Sure" I already knew were she lived, right next to me. I only saw her two or three times. She seems very shy yet she's very beautiful. Her name is Nina, I think. I heard her mother calling her like that. I don't know if she lives with her father too because the few times I saw her she was with her mother and a young man. I call him a young man because I don't know if he's her brother, or her dad, or the boyfriend of her mother. I don't know.

I grabbed the letter and the first thing I read was:

'From: CCNY: Poetry Outreach Center; the City College of New York.
To: Nina Brooks.
Subject: Response to your application.'

This is great, this is... woah, this is my dream. Does she write poems? Of course she do. I can't believe it. I never actually met a girl who enjoys poetry. Well, I didn't met her, yet, but I'm going to. I knew there was something about her, she's different to any other girl I saw. She's... She has something that makes her, shine? Ugh now you know why I suck at writing poems. But really, she has something that makes her stand out.

I was standing outside her door, apartment 103, I knocked on it and waited for about ten seconds until I heard a sweet voice saying "coming!"

And then she opened it, Nina.

"Uh- Mr. Corse told me to give you this letter" I said kind of nervous, "here" I handed it to her and she grabbed it, looking at the letter the whole time.

"Do you write poems?" I finally asked.

She only nodded and closed the door, but little did she know I was going to be around her
a lot.