Tonight, or at 2:20 in the morning, I should say, I took out my last two year books (and the only ones I purchased). I smiled at the well-loved signatures by teachers and peers alike, and finally stumbled upon the picture and reputation of the classmate I thought I had a legit love for in high school. Of course, I never really talked to him.. I saw his picture morph in my tired mind, and I saw him as a grown man. The man he was when everyone around him was still boyish - childish. He shape-shifted into his middle ages on the page, even in his senior tux. I regret now. I should have spoken. I should have said something, anything. He was too quiet to start any real conversation that might ever lead anywhere. He was a fragile doll with the muscles of Hercules. I threw away a dream which I had started in ninth grade upon merely seeing him.
It's funny how no one realizes you're still there until you're in their way. I had forgotten this man-child until I noticed how unhappily lonely I was recently.
He'll probably marry someone beautiful, he's got the physic and gentle nature to do it. He'll have gorgeous children pattering around his cozy, yet spacey, house. He'll have a steady, secure job. He'll never have to dream again.
But I'll be dreaming of him still.
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