Her (A word paper) | Teen Ink

Her (A word paper)

September 14, 2016
By CMM119 BRONZE, West Babylon, New York
CMM119 BRONZE, West Babylon, New York
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."<br /> -Tyler Durden


“The gaze in her eyes/ got me paralyzed/ just a few more words and we could be closer than ‘Family Ties’/ with everything shaking, I’m sure I’ll die before I try.”
I scribbled those lyrics into the back of my marble notebook—right near the multiplication table. I looked up and there she was—she was looking up at Mr. Egbert and her eyes could not be more alluring. They contained a special sparkle that could part oceans, defeat Goliath, or even make time stop. I yearned for the moments when she smiled or laughed. Those two were definitely feats to be witnessed. Her laugh was melodic, like the sweetest siren song ever sung. Her smile, on the other hand, was the eighth wonder of the world—such a vibrant sight that she could direct sailors at sea. She bore the image of a Roman goddess, and was most likely omnipotent just the same. I couldn’t help but look over every few moments to steal a glance. It was brief, momentary bliss—that is unless I underestimated that glance and had my eyes on her so long that our eyes would meet. That would usually result in me being so flustered and embarrassed that I’d quickly turn my sight to the floor or the wall. I had always been able to have a normal person-to-person conversation with her, but for a while now, I’d catch a stutter in my speech or be at a loss for words every time I would try to hold a conversation with her. That would usually be followed by a bright rose color accumulating around my cheeks or a touch of shaking throughout my hands. The occasional calling-out or comical comments made during the period are always so I could catch at least the faintest bit of her laughter. When my efforts turned up fruitful, the satisfaction proves to be a natural anti-depressant (though I don’t remember being depressed before). However, if I turn up a failure, I feel the need to bury my head in my crossed arms, for I’m no longer worthy to even be within her sight after such a poor effort. The best part of class is when she begins to speak. The combination of her beautiful voice and knowledgeable words brings along incomparable elation. Every word she voices ends up sounding like the most profound statements you could’ve ever heard uttered. Every part of her works in perfect harmony to create the amazing individual she is, and she’s more than anyone could ask for.
After a brief moment of writer’s block—which involved a large amount of pen-tapping and drifting off slightly—I flipped back to my notes to reveal the words “go for it” written in penmanship unfamiliar to me.



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