Summary:
Essay discusses a story from the book "Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul" by Jack Canfield that is about learning to start over in certain aspects of life.
"But I love you,Jesse," he says as we sit on the couch in my living room, his voice quivering and unstable. His pleading eyes look directly in mine, begging my forgiveness. I don't recognize these eyes that once provided me with a sense of comfort and security. The warm blue of his eyes that used to reassure me of a love that would last forever is replaced with a colder gray. I shiver and look away.
Tears cloud my eyes as I feel him breathing next to me on the edge of the couch. My mind wanders to a time a year earlier, a happier time, when I had also been acutely aware of his breathing as we sat on that same couch. My heart pounded that day as I glanced nervously into his eyes, unable to hold my stare, yet unable to look away. It was that particular day that my heart decided to surrender itself to the magic of first love. And as I sat beside him, overwhlmed by the certainty of my love for him, I struggled to say the words out loud for the first time. I wanted to scream to the world that my heart felt bigger than my whole body, that I was in love and nothing could ever take away that feeling, but no sounds came out of my mouth. As I fidgeted with the edge of a pillow, he gently placed his hand on my arm and looked directley into my eyes. His soft stare soothed my nerves. "I love you, Jesse," he told me, his eyes holding my stare. A small smile formed on my face as my heart began to beat quickly and loudly. He had known that night, just as I had- and he felt the power of the realization of love, just like I had.
But that power is gone now, I remind myself. That returns me from that distant memory tot the present moment like a slap in the face.
"Doesn't it mean anything to you that I love you"" he asks. "Please, I'm so sorry." His hand reaches for my face to brush the hair out of my eyes. I duck my head to avoid his touch. It has become too painful since I found out. He had told me two days before that he had kissed another girl. I sat in stuned silence, unable to move or speak.
I sit now in silence, not because I don't know what to say, but because I am afraid that my voice will deceive me and begin to quiver. As I start to speak, I look into his eyes and stop myself, wondering if I will be making a mistake. Maybe it can work, I think, and I imagine his arms around me hugging me to his chest, making everything ok like he had done so often in the past when I was in need of comfort. Now, more than ever, I ache for the comfort of his arms and for the reassurancewarm blue gaze. But it is not possible, for the trust is gone and our love has been scarred. His gaze is no longer a warm blue and his arms no longer provide comfort.
Now I struggle to find the words that I know must come out of my mouth, not like before when I knew the words woud lead us to a place of magic on the path of our relationship. I now struggle to find the words that will end the path. It's not that my love for him has been taken away, it's just that I know my heart can never again feel bigger than my whole body when I am with him. When he gets up from the couch to leave, the pain in my heart feels too strong to endure, and I have to stop myself from calling after him. I know that I have done the right thing. I know thatI am strong, although at this moment I feel anything but strong.
I sit frozen on the couch for a long time after he has left; the only movement in the room is the tears that run down my cheeks and soak in the thighs of my jeans. I wonder how I can possibly go on when it feels like half of me is missing. And so I wait. I wait for time to heal the pain and raise me to my feet once again- so that I can start a new path, my own path, the one that will make me whole again.
This is the complete article, containing 761 words
(approx. 3 pages at 300 words per page).
