The Wallflower. ~A Short Story~

 I worshiped you from afar. I knew from the very moment I had imbibed the green pigment your exquisite peridot gemstone eyes do discharge, that I was in love. You were a kind, courteous and diligent boy who held pride in his self-deprecating sense of humor. You were popular, and highly glorified throughout high school, which always compensated my soul with a sense of reluctance whenever I felt impelled to talk to you for the first time. To the girls at school, you were perfection and all its constituents: The breadth of your shoulders spoke of how you possessed the valorous qualities of a soldier. Courage. Your impressive GPA exhibited the sagacious facet of your personality. Intelligence. Last but not least, the warmth of your smile was fully apt at liquefying the most resistant of solids. Charm and generosity.

 

 To me you were much more than what everyone else always thought of you. I refused to call you my everything, simply because you were not a quantity that was meant to be described in its intrinsic nature. You were much more than quantity. Much more than words. To you however; I was not a word nor was I a quantity. I was invisible. I was nothing. Even with the lack of acknowledgement, it only made my love for you grow cumulatively stronger than before. I enjoyed watching you from the sidelines. Behind those crooked wire rimmed glasses, and innocent eyes that were constantly scintillating with passion and anticipation. Their ignition always came from the same source. The friction engendered from forlorn love.

Nothing but hopeless love.

 I still remember that fateful mistake like its occurrence was fresh out of yesterday. My best friend Macy had been infuriatingly trying, and with very little success, to coax me into attending the most glamorous house party of the year after someone had anonymously slipped an invitation into my locker. At first I was stunned by the obscure discovery, but I disregarded all thoughts thinking it was another one of Macy's strategic attempts to get me enthusiastic about the event. After all, my ideal vision of the perfect Saturday night was to revel in the warmth and opulence of my own bed, whilst burying my nose in philosophy books about the judicious opinions and lives of the world’s greatest philosophers from Plato to John Dewey. Anything was better than spending my night jostling through animated crowds of inebriated teenagers, carousing and shouting drunken profanities over a sound system blaring overly produced music.

 I had never taken interest in teenage festivities, but for you, I knew it wouldn’t be a challenge. I had assumed that a part of me accepted because it was the perfect opportunity to see you; the other half of me was feeling audacious enough to embark on the perilous path of adventure.

 It was the first time I had worn a dress and went out in public without my glasses, but it shouldn’t matter because you never noticed. I had managed to bring my diary along with me to keep me occupied, even though Macy had strongly inveighed against the idea from the beginning. I watched you socialize with your significant group of friends, and observed with great wonderment at how you gracefully slow danced with the girl you were destined to ask to prom as I documented every precious moment with the delicate stroke of a pen. I saw how your eyes grew wide with excitement when your favorite song instantly poured through the speakers, warranting an uncontrollable smile to inch its way up your pristine complexion. Little did you know, we both indulged in the same type of music. Observing you in your own niche, made me feel nothing but content. I was completely enamored by your presence, and simply enchanted by your every action. Even if I was still as invisible as a wallflower.

 It was only after a few weeks that I noticed my diary and its key were missing. It was evident that I had foolishly left them at the party. To my luck, I had remembered the locket. Unfortunately however, the news about the findings had managed to rapidly circulate around the school faster than wild fire, and in a matter of days, my secrets had alarmingly landed in the hands of some of the most pretentious, yet highly idolized students at our school. The truth was right at your fingertips, and you didn't even know it. Sooner or later, people began to recognize that the passages from my diary were all about you. It wasn't that hard to figure out. Sometimes I would meekly peer over at you from the side of my locker, as you would be cautiously flipping through the crisp pages of the diary, your face openly advertising a diverse collage of sincere emotions with each gentle turn.