Sometimes things happen to us which make us wonder “Since when was my life a movie?” I’m talking about those moments that have only existed as of now in your head, fantasies which you can dream about and have complete control over how wonderfully perfect they play out. An occurrence like the above moments happened to me today, but definitely not the way I saw it in my own mind. It was ridiculously scary how it came to be. So it’s an ordinary school lunchtime, I’m casually pacing the school with close friends, bump into other friends and decide to sit with them instead – it’s a common practise. Nonchalantly striking up conversation about classes we’re taking and outings we’ve been on when our conversation is directed down the way of my undying love for a certain person. Seems like the whole class knows by now, the way I get hysterical if he even makes eye contact with me. I’m so childish. Must learn to master the art of confidence and learn to have a friendly presence among those I meet. Like him I suppose, with his gentle nature and golden hair, the way he wears his shorts and tie...moving on with my recount.
We’re laughing about how awkwardly psyched I can get when he is around, when a familiar glint of gold appears in the corner of my eyes. OH MY GOSH! He is in the vicinity, keep breathing, act normal, don’t make it obvious you’re ogling his athletic physique, but wait – are those words coming out of his mouth being directed our way? Regaining control of my brain, my ears are telling me yes. He repeats himself.“Hey, girls, can you please get our ball over there?” Huh? Oh right, the ball he was using to oh-so-athletically play down ball with on the courts which I was briskly looking over to before. One of my friends gets to her feet, abruptly stopping herself to kindly point out that I should be the one who returns his ball. Managing to uncoordinatedly stand, I realise my left leg has fallen asleep and a rush of prickly blood flows down my left side, paining me. Attempting to motion over to where he patiently leans on the fence, I’m unable to make eye contact, hobbling like a crippled person at a snail’s pace. I’ve made it to the garden bed, yet are failing to notice any ball contained within the leafy undergrowth. “Where is it? Oh, I see it...is that it?” I squeak. My voice is caught in my throat and barely audible to my own ears. The inability to meet his blue eyes is still upon me and I collect the ball from the plants, standing up on the stone wall that encloses the flower bed. I extend my arm to throw the ball, probably higher than necessary and incredibly close to the fence, and it just makes it over. Damn short genes.
Overcome by shock at how close I have come to this handsome boy, I immediately jump back onto the path and scurry back to where my friends are sitting, or more like hunched over, heaving for breath between red-faced bursts of laughter. I make out the sound of his voice behind me “Thanks, girls!” (He has such manners) followed by the patter of his feet back to his own mates. As I began to comprehend what took place in the last few minutes that lunchtime, my head fell into my hands with utter embarrassment and awkward shame. I can only assume how shocked I would have appeared before my crush, as my friends failed to watch on, simply too choked by the unrealistic hilarity of it all. How did I not even look at him? Where did my conversational small talk voice go? Why hadn’t I at least smiled at the irresistible one? Regret filled me as I overanalysed that scene over and over in my mind for the rest of the afternoon. Even sitting here, writing this, I think of what an impression I could have made. If only in those split seconds I behaved normally. Or perhaps it is in my personality to transform into the ultimate derp whenever a gorgeous guy is around. Who knows? Looks as though I have a lot of practice to do until fate decides we shall meet again. Whenever that is.
We’re laughing about how awkwardly psyched I can get when he is around, when a familiar glint of gold appears in the corner of my eyes. OH MY GOSH! He is in the vicinity, keep breathing, act normal, don’t make it obvious you’re ogling his athletic physique, but wait – are those words coming out of his mouth being directed our way? Regaining control of my brain, my ears are telling me yes. He repeats himself.“Hey, girls, can you please get our ball over there?” Huh? Oh right, the ball he was using to oh-so-athletically play down ball with on the courts which I was briskly looking over to before. One of my friends gets to her feet, abruptly stopping herself to kindly point out that I should be the one who returns his ball. Managing to uncoordinatedly stand, I realise my left leg has fallen asleep and a rush of prickly blood flows down my left side, paining me. Attempting to motion over to where he patiently leans on the fence, I’m unable to make eye contact, hobbling like a crippled person at a snail’s pace. I’ve made it to the garden bed, yet are failing to notice any ball contained within the leafy undergrowth. “Where is it? Oh, I see it...is that it?” I squeak. My voice is caught in my throat and barely audible to my own ears. The inability to meet his blue eyes is still upon me and I collect the ball from the plants, standing up on the stone wall that encloses the flower bed. I extend my arm to throw the ball, probably higher than necessary and incredibly close to the fence, and it just makes it over. Damn short genes.
Overcome by shock at how close I have come to this handsome boy, I immediately jump back onto the path and scurry back to where my friends are sitting, or more like hunched over, heaving for breath between red-faced bursts of laughter. I make out the sound of his voice behind me “Thanks, girls!” (He has such manners) followed by the patter of his feet back to his own mates. As I began to comprehend what took place in the last few minutes that lunchtime, my head fell into my hands with utter embarrassment and awkward shame. I can only assume how shocked I would have appeared before my crush, as my friends failed to watch on, simply too choked by the unrealistic hilarity of it all. How did I not even look at him? Where did my conversational small talk voice go? Why hadn’t I at least smiled at the irresistible one? Regret filled me as I overanalysed that scene over and over in my mind for the rest of the afternoon. Even sitting here, writing this, I think of what an impression I could have made. If only in those split seconds I behaved normally. Or perhaps it is in my personality to transform into the ultimate derp whenever a gorgeous guy is around. Who knows? Looks as though I have a lot of practice to do until fate decides we shall meet again. Whenever that is.
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