Sarah and me
Stereotypically, it's the guy who doesn't remember when he first saw the girl; it's the guy who misplaces somewhere that golden feeling he had: she separates from the crowd, time lingers upon the moment, that first glance, and somehow she is special, he will remember her. Instead, it's Sarah who can't recall me from that first day of orientation at SST. We never shared any classes that first year, and I didn't talk to her again almost until summer, but somehow I remember that first meeting. Somehow, she stood out.
Early the next school year, we went on SST's annual beach trip, and for some reason I ended up hanging out with Sarah the whole time. Some crazy mutual thing, I guess. On the bus ride back, I sat in front of her and a large group of us played Apples to Apples. It was awkward holding hands across the seat with a teacher sitting next to her and everything, but who cared? We were intoxicated.
Throughout that year, Sarah and I spent tons of time together. Playing frisbee, talking online until the early hours of the morning, sitting beneath a waterfall near her house. She convinced me to skip class for the first time to go walk in the nature park. It was glorious and carefree.
Even though we pretty much revolved around each other that year, we never dated.
But things have changed now. Sarah and I have only gotten closer over the years, as we both grew older and (perhaps) more mature. We spent the summer playfully friendly, and when I went to visit Sarah last semester, I knew there was something there. Yet I still wasn't ready for a relationship. I felt there was still too much tangled up in my mind. It wasn't until this last break that I felt truly ready to date again.
Early on Christmas morning, we made it official.
So, she and I are an item now. A thing. Star-crossed lovers blinded by passion, or something like that. Our personalities complement each other as though such a thing were inevitable. I am more comfortable in this than I have ever been before. I haven't gotten everything sorted out in my mind, but for the first time I don't feel I need to; this is how things stand, and I am happy. Now I can write absurd love letters about the heat death of the universe. Now I can taste that bittersweet mixture of fondness and longing for an absent love. Now I can lay aside some of my past worries and simply take pleasure in life. Now I can without reservation tell someone I love them fully. And Sarah is the root of all these joys.
That's my personal entry. It has been sitting in my head for a long time. Now everyone knows my secret. Sarah, I love you.