When I first entered grade school, I instantly fell in love with this boy. He had a great taste in music back then, even as a kid. We used to run through the halls of the building or in the aisles of the cafeteria during break times. He made my heart feel like bursting but I knew back then it was nothing. That it was just some petty childhood romance. But even so, I liked talking to him as he listen to me. And even when I am lost for words, his eyes would still be focused on mine.
In high school, a girl in my class mentioned Shakespeare and I knew we would be friends.
At college, a boy whose brown eyes lit like burned leaves left a scar on my heart. He wrote verses from love songs he listed the night before and dedicate them to me. I thought my heart skipped a beat every time he’s around. He would call me at night and send me emails in the morning. It would always include small smileys and red hearts on the corners of his love notes. In the end, we called it quits. He liked a girl called Summer, a cute shy girl from the north. Since then I started believing that human beings are cruel. They don’t always crush bones, but they shatter hearts.
I was left with a diary full of scribbles from past heartaches and I told myself not to fall in love with anyone recklessly again. I thought love was for people who didn’t know any better.
Until last night, I found myself in a drunken state of mind at a club in Queens as a cover band sings a song of The Strokes as a background, right across from you. You in your stupid glasses and your stupid shirt and your stupid hair and your stupid smile.
I wouldn’t know what would come out after last night, but please. Come and talk to me.