One glance out of my kitchen window confirmed my view that love does exist, but there was more than just the physical aspect from afar. I forgot about the psychological idea that if you see something enough, no matter how much or how little it arouses the eyes, you’re more attracted to it. Think about it. When you’re not physically pulled in, you would back out…unless you had interest to keep you around.
This made absolutely no sense until I saw it! Who was the man who inhaled my sun and treaded my flowers on my deadening grass? He seemed to only possess my attention, wonder of what made this place attract him and confusion about what made him seem…attractive, or just interesting? Maybe they were the same thing.
Nevertheless, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was not the person I wrote about in my journal. His arms were not buff; they were lanky, running three-fourths of the way down his body. Disproportionate, I thought. Instead of having nice brown hair gelled up in the front, tight like flowers in a vase, he had a heap of black curly hair that probably never saw shampoo. The strands sprung all over the place, like spikes on a mace. His eyes were gray. Such a boring color. What would I see in them? He had no shirt on, and I saw no trace of abs. He did not have a potbelly, but his chest and stomach seemed to be in line with each other. There was no substance, no surprise. Would he be predictable? His ripped, faded light blue jeans might as well have come from his long-dead grandfather. Old-fashioned and just plain, like the rest of him.
As he just stood with his monkey arms dangling, a woman ran up to him. But then, she looked more like a girl than a woman. She was a petite blonde, her hair shining under the sparkle of the setting sun. She looked like a stereotypical cheerleader, the kind of girl I would like to punch. The man looked like the nerd that she would like to reject. Unlike the man who polluted my air, the woman seemed to overfill it with flowers and candy and sweet delights that I hated only because I wished I had them. How could a dark man like him and a bright woman like her combine forces to intrude my attention? Why should I care?
I thought that if I had a camera, no one would believe the contrast between the dork and the cheerleader. That would look more like a turkey and jelly sandwich than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ew. But keep in mind, this was my view from afar. This was my view from my window.
I went outside just to take back my part of the sun. Since it was just about sucked up by the man’s horizon and claimed by the woman’s radiance, I didn’t get my share. But as I gazed from my porch, I became the paparazzi. My camera lens was perfect, but strangely, not focused on physical traits. Far from it. I zoomed my eyes beyond their faces. They both seemed to truly enjoy the sun, laughing with their shares, touching each other’s hands, locking their eyes onto each other. Dark and light became one massive fire, but I was too dark and cold to see it. When I finally saw it, I no longer felt intruded. Instead, I felt a hope for love embrace me.