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Love is a Line from Hollywood

Author: Mushroom
Rating: G
Summary: When you experience something bigger than you are, you automatically think you are stupid just because you do not understand it. Try not to understand its BIGNESS, but understand why it found you.
Notes: Another one of my metaphorical works. You’ll probably have a difficult time understanding this, since I even *researched* for it, and all paragraphs reflect my current situation. If Commander Johnson was a metaphor of my life, this is a reflection of my thoughts.

Enjoy. It’s not as funny, and is quite boring compared to the others. I've been gone for a long time; lapses of depression, insanity, and geekiness, so this is the best I could offer amidst a busy schedule.





“Two Thumbs Up!”



Love ruined him.

Can you relate to the indescribable feeling of settling down on a cozy chair inside a massive movie house while anticipating the start of the film on the big screen? It was a commemorative event; I was seated beside Callaghan and a number of other people whose names I cannot recall…probably because of my bursting excitement.

The movie was a coming-of-age story with a charming young actress in the lead role, accompanied by a handsome youth with enough air in his head to supply underwater facilities. This film was to be reviewed by the student board, and once approved will be shown in various classes as a recommendation for lessons. The board in charge of the process in censorship was Callaghan, the head. I was his assistant. There were a few others, but they ceased to acknowledge the importance of meetings.

As I was saying...we were both seated near the aisle, eagerly awaiting the opening of the film. The name of the movie slipped off my mind completely…for it was something not worth remembering.

I was clutching my seat and gritting my teeth throughout the whole movie. I waited for the words “JUST KIDDING” to flash on the screen before we proceeded to view the REAL movie, but there was no comfort. Our eyes feasted on a disgusting love triangle, extremely libidinous teenagers, over-reacting parents and sibling rivalry. I felt cheated of my time, my efforts, my enthusiasm.

The woman and the man fought, broke up, realized they still loved each other, kissed along a hallway full of passers-by, and had sex inside a rickety car while exchanging sappy dialogue that is meant to bring us to tears. Amusing; I have not seen such acts even during surprise inspections. This is the work of a jaded director. Of EVERY director in the entertainment industry, for that matter.

So, do you understand that feeling? The feeling that makes you wince, cringe, and bite your nails? The feeling that makes you want to scrape your skin because you are shivering violently and you just cannot stop it, because it is impossible to keep your disgust to yourself? My feet yearned to run away from the theatre and the madness, but my pride kept me calm. This is the work of an official; therefore, I must be professional.

As soon as he noticed that I was looking quite pallid, Callaghan listened to my brutal criticisms regarding the predictability of the motion picture, and I asked him for his opinion. His eyes were wide, and they glistened marvelously. He said it was a mind-opener. I told him he was delirious.

It was the director’s fault. It was not mine.



“A Visual Spectacle!”


Love ruined him.

Everything was fine, and I enjoyed my days amongst those of higher rankings. It was all thanks to Callaghan, of course. If it weren’t for him, I would not have accomplished numerous feats and garnered myself a remarkable social status. Callaghan was perfect, and everyone loved him. He was exceptionally good-looking, with sandy blonde hair (this statement is a first, for I do not enjoy specifics) and a good build. I am aware of his beauty—sometimes it scares me—and my observation regarding his appearance is written in an organizer I keep with me in all occasions.

Callaghan had outstanding marks and took pleasure in receiving awards from all the organizations he had joined, whether academic or sports-related. He was pleasant, obedient, courteous, and a true gentleman. The youngest son of a prestigious family, he displayed a dignified appearance and spoke with an eloquence that impressed many. Hence, Callaghan won as head of the student board, and appointed me as his aide.

We are usually together, if not always. I take down notes and offer suggestions while he organizes his thoughts and plans. For three years we have been an unstoppable duo in creating a better foundation for our university, and so far we have improved greatly. Callaghan was the better strategist; I was merely helping the one who gave me everything he had.

People flock to him in disturbing numbers, but Callaghan is kind enough to entertain several of them. When things start getting out of hand (like hyperventilating females and human sacrifices), he gently pushes them away and declares that we both have things to discuss. It was wonderful being the only one in Callaghan’s private circle.

At least I thought it was.

There was a meeting in the conference room, but as expected, no one came. It started raining. Callaghan asked if I had an umbrella. I shook my head.

RED ALERT! You have seen this. Yes, you have. In television, commercials, all forms of media…

I suggested we wait for the rain to stop before we head home via train; I had a bunch of important papers with me, and I am not very fond of my household.

So the sky turned gray and it started raining. I was feeling quite bored, so I sang “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”.

I should have stopped singing when he said I had a beautiful voice. I should have volunteered to borrow an umbrella from the faculty, a room just a few doors away. I shouldn’t have been bored. I shouldn’t have smiled like a deranged idiot when he complimented me. I should have pushed him away when he leaned in for a kiss. A kiss, an open window, endless rain, an empty room—the elements of a common love story. A confession followed soon after.

Callaghan said he loved me.

Then thunder boomed, lightning struck, and the rain stormed down heavily after that suspenseful moment. I mean, a kiss is one thing. But love! He is smart. Why would he say something so intangible, something no one is sure of? Yet he said he loved me as if he meant it, as if he knew love.

I hated him. This was the movie’s fault.





“Had me on the Edge of my Seat!”




I asked him why. Why love? Why me? Insignificant questions. Do not get me wrong; I am not concerned, and I do not care. I wanted to know for the sake of knowing. If one makes a declaration, he should support it, yes? It was just natural for him to tell me the reason behind the mind-boggling event of yesterday. Man craves for information, and this was news I needed to hear. Not that I cared, of course. The thought bothers me.

Callaghan smiled and replied, “I….I don’t know. But what I do know is that…I love you. I love you very much.”

I felt my insides jolt and had the sudden urge to…vomit. Yes, the word is an exaggeration in itself, but I was really nauseated. Although Callaghan made me feel better by letting me sleep on his shoulder, a privilege only I had experienced, I still felt quite sick. Imagine! A declamation champion, an articulate speaker, intellectual conversationalist and an awarded debater…found it difficult to express his thought on the matter at hand? I asked Callaghan if he was just as sick as I was, but he just stared at me and kept silent. Questions poured from my mouth and he swallowed them like pills, the final attempt in taking one’s life. Callaghan killed himself right before my eyes.

But of course, since I was his subordinate, I smiled in return. Respect is awarded to the one who respects me as well. Even if his image just dropped on my feet.




“Truly Spectacular!”



Love made him a fool.

Yesterday;

“Ummm…I-I…Y-you…”

“Yes sir, is there something you wish to discuss with me? Please speak up before I prepare myself for our examinations tomorrow.”

“A-are you free on Friday? I mean, are you available?”

“Why certainly, I am always available for you.”

“R-right. It’s a date, then!”

Callaghan scurried off (and disturbingly so) before I even had the chance to twist my face in an awkward fashion, the kind of expression one wears when in deep shock.

So we had a ‘date’. It was the conventional date; I recall the main protagonists in the blasted film and their syrupy date that involved champagne and posh restaurants and roses. This ‘date’ was quite the same. We had dinner in their garden, for our dinner by the swimming pool was cancelled due to falling utensils (We wasted a heavy amount of time trying to fish them out of the water). The garden was extremely boring because the flowers held earthy colors, and there were mosquitoes feasting on my skin. Nevertheless, it was a joyous occasion. Callaghan cooked the food himself and I had great fun criticizing the flavors and spices of his self-created dishes. (“Mashed potatoes are made to be mashed, not molded like clay!”) He took my evaluation fairly and promised to cook better next time, if only we dated every week. I felt cheated of something, but I did not refuse.

Why should I refuse fine dining?

As expected from a wonderful dinner, gift-giving came next. I brought nothing with me but my loyal organizer, and proceeded to inform him the details of the upcoming activities in the student board this month. It was a gift Callaghan received with jubilant smiles (I felt something jolt in my chest, though I’m sure it felt nice), and he gave me something in return.

I was surprised. It was a daisy on a pot. It wasn’t in a fancy glass case, or a bouquet. It was a wild daisy, green on the edges, and held firm with damp soil that was clumsily (and hurriedly) packed. I looked at him, bewildered for a moment. He should have had the decency to give me something useful, say…another organizer. But no, it was a daisy. I knew it meant something—Callaghan was predictable like that—but I was not sure what it meant. The way Callaghan was staring at me fondly during that exchange made me appreciate the droopy thing. I even kissed him back. It was nothing important, that kiss of appreciation, but it made me smile for the rest of the day.

So foolish was Callaghan that he would offer to do things for me. Instead of the aide assisting the leader, he was the one who accompanied me during reports, inspections, and the like. He carried my books and folders and borrowed books from the library for my homework. He then told me that he admired me greatly for being able to put up with such a busy life. I told the blonde that everything I did was for him, because I believed in his decisions and wanted to enforce them in our community. That time we had a short embrace that lasted for seconds because we were in the hallway. I felt really cross because of that, but I couldn't explain why.

One time, I asked him if I looked horrible. It was a busy week and I spent nights staring at the laptop screen, trying to find words to write on my reaction papers. The film we both watched required one, and I was having a hard time giving positive remarks to balance my opinion (because there is always good in everything, or so I believed).

“No. You look beautiful.”

“Beautiful!” I argued, covering my face because I could feel it burning, “Stop it. I have been stressed out since Monday morning, and I haven’t been functioning well during one of our group reports. I completely messed up in the part about John Locke.”

Callaghan shook his head, and a few people stopped to admire the way the strands of his hair moved against the air. “You are beautiful. These past few days I learned what it is like to be in your position, and it is hard work. But the work produces brilliant effects. Like the restoration of the grotto in our once-hopeless school sanctuary. You organized the project, and you gave all you had for its completion. Look at it now. It’s fabulous. The dedication to your work, and the wonders you conjure from it…that is beauty. You are beautiful. Blooming, I should say. Like a daisy from the wild.”

I wrinkled my nose and swatted him with a newspaper. “Try hearing yourself! You sound absolutely—absolutely…UGH.” My shoulders shivered involuntarily and I tried to stop myself from scampering away from the scene.

I wondered what the ‘daisy from the wild’ phrase was all about, and I was furious. He was sweet-talking me! Did he think that he could fool me with extravagant words about my achievements then compare them to…to wildflowers? What he said was quite similar to the male protagonist’s speech when his girlfriend was in the depths of insecurity. We were living the character’s lives, and it was not even romantic. As he talked the wind blew harder and drove us to the comfort of our halls. It reminded me of a special-effect.




“Remarkable! The Best of its Kind!”



His love frightened me.

Did anyone ever tell you an important secret, a secret so heavy that you just couldn’t bear it yourself? Callaghan and I were alone in our boardroom, after another unattended meeting, and he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms round my waist.

“My brother’s a thief, you see,” said my leader, “And he took everything, even the leftovers I feed on. My parents don’t give a damn. If you call me perfect, then he is a god.”

“If he’s a god, then to hell with religion.” I replied, and he laughed. There were parts about his childhood, his parents, and his brother. Things that mattered. And as anticipated in confessions and realizations, there was a lot of crying. But he felt better afterwards, and that’s what mattered. I wondered if the woman in the movie cried incessantly to comfort herself, or if it was just another devious ploy for her to receive a hug from the leading man.

I walked along the corridors a new man. I kept with me Callaghan’s life, and his love. This made me scared, yes…and a bit proud. But most of all, it kept me focused, so I aced all my tests that day.





“A Real Thriller.”



“Stop humiliating yourself!” I shouted.


It was an ordinary afternoon, and we were studying to prove its ordinariness. Or at least I was. Callaghan proceeded to stare at me with sticky eyes, and the hairs on my nape were starting to prickle. It was awfully irritating to be gazed at while you are concentrating on your notes, and even more so when his fingers forced to entwine with mine. To be honest, it felt good, and I clung on his hand for hours, but it was already past three and I was annoyed with all the staring. So I let go of his hand and I scolded him for acting like an immature, love-struck girl.

“Speaking of love!” The bastard perked up and searched his suitcase. Out came dozens of colourful letters, written in black ink. “I wrote letters for you, but I won’t give them now. You shall find them every morning in your locker, as little bombs of surprises.”

“Stop treating me like a child.” I spat.

“Really now,” He chided, “The tone of your voice is an insult to the children.”

“Then why the letters? Why the daisies? Why all these talks about love?” I was more than frustrated now; I wanted answers, but he only gave me three-worded phrases that proved absolutely nothing.

Callaghan asked me if I liked them, and I said I despised his presents. I fared terribly in the art of lying, which brought the argument to an early close. So every morning I would open my locker to see a letter:

My most precious person,

I am aware that you are dreadfully exhausted from all the studying we have done last night. I just wrote to tell you that I support you in all your decisions, and you can sleep on my shoulder anytime, provided that you reserve an empty classroom beforehand.

All that kissing was wonderful, wasn’t it? Though you have not told me you love me yet...I suppose you don’t. I love that thing you do with my lower lip, let us try that one more time. Remember, reserve an empty classroom! Room 201 is always good for its husky smell of guitars and lemons.

We just had five quizzes yesterday, and I am still a bit disoriented. There was this girl who borrowed my handkerchief and never returned it. What would she do with a spaghetti-stained piece of cloth, I wonder? Setting that aside, I simply tried to concentrate by reminiscing the day we first met. Our faces were covered by layers of mud and grass, so we had to journey to the showers to rinse ourselves. I was staring at you, and you looked back and offered me your hand soap.

You were my first friend, dear assistant.

You have been telling me that I have been acting strange since I said I loved you. You see, I’ve been like this ever since. Ever since loving you, I mean. Perhaps you were too preoccupied with your duties to notice? Now that you have acknowledged my uncouthly habit of gazing at your lovely frame, it means that there is development and hope for my future objectives.

How is our daisy, by the way? Growing leaves, at least?

Forever yours,

Callaghan



His words were written with fine strokes and sharp lines. The e’s were curved beautifully, and his i’s were topped with tiny dots of precision. This was the masterpiece of the wondrous Callaghan; and to think he would employ his knowledge on a mere piece of paper!

Love letters reminded me of the same movie. There was a scene wherein the female actress spent all night torturing herself because she could not come up with a decent love letter for her typical boyfriend. Callaghan’s letters were so smooth, so him, that I thought it was a product of a minute's time. The dark circles underneath his eyes told something else however, and I kissed both of them with a sigh.

Several hours for pointless questions and daisies and kisses. What I would give for spare time.


We had another date, which was a total disaster. We tried walking 'round the park to admire the scenery, when all we saw were couples engaging in activities not suitable for innocent eyes. Callaghan and I tried to determine the reason behind public display of affection, and engaged in a long dialectic. The couples left the park scandalized with our discussion, and so we were left to sit on a bench. The whole place was deserted a few minutes later; they probably warned the others that aliens have arrived to corrupt their sacred spot.

Callaghan tried to be romantic by putting his arm round my shoulder. There was a time in the movie in which the male character felt embarrassed to sling his arm over the woman’s shoulder, when it was so obvious that both characters knew they were yearning to move closer.

I glanced at Callaghan and felt my hatred for him burn strongly.

“What are you doing, sir? Dislike me if you must, but I believe your behavior is outrageous. Someone could pass by any moment now and SEE us.”

“There was this puppy I found behind the bushes by our driveway three years ago,” said Callaghan smilingly, paying no attention to what I said. “It looked so lost. I ignored it; we have too many pets at home, though I have not really seen them yet. They are owned by our maids. So I walked faster and spat back at my conscience, but it was pulling at me with an enormous hand. The puppy ran after me and barked cheerfully, and I couldn’t help but yield to that nagging voice in my head and bent down to pat it. Once I held the puppy, felt its fur…I just knew I had to take him home. It was a feeling no one could stop, and it was a good thing my mind was wise enough to contact my heart.”

“You are saying I’m a dog.” I said flatly.

“No, no!” Callaghan chuckled, and his arm eased on my back, “It is hard to stop oneself. In my case, I just can’t run away again.”

In the movie, the two protagonists told melodramatic versions of their pasts. I told him I just wanted success, as my family was short of it, and Callaghan assured me he would take me there. Higher, even.

I found myself believing him.





“A Genuine Wonder!”



I had nightmares, hellish ones. In my dreams I possessed the body of a woman, with stylish curls past my cheeks and revealing clothes as my wardrobe. I kissed and made love with the primary actor, who suspiciously resembled Callaghan without the glasses, and there were background saxophone music, open windows, rainstorms and rolling credits.

Callaghan proceeded to make me feel like an idiot by declaring his love at the most embarrassing of situations. One example would be the untimely chaos during the teacher-student conference, where the president and his assistant were told to induct a speech concerning current college grounds issues.

This professor spoke up and rebuked my statement of student complaints. He refused to acknowledge the voice of the students, thinking that we had no concrete voice in the first place. I felt like whimpering and bolting out of the door, but his sneering face made my knees shake. In utter rage Callaghan stood up and furiously humiliated said teacher as revenge for what he did to me. Soon both lofty and well-respected officials started hurling a barrage of insults and cusses to each other, and were only stopped by the security guards that arrived after two hours of yelling.

“Your assistant’s claims are LUDICROUS! Surely the board does not see the relevance of the subject matter he has been forcing in our hands! He speaks as if he knows everything, when his words seem uneducated and poorly-conducted!”

“JUST SHUT UP OR I’M GONNA WHOOP YOUR ASS, YOU OLD FART!”

“Is that the proper way to speak to your instructor?!”

“FUCK INSTRUCTORS! FUCK YOU ALL! FUCK THIS MEETING AND YOUR STUPID SWEATER! FUCK YOUR TAPDANCE SHOES! FUCK YOUR BALD HEAD!”

He took my hand and we both stormed outside the conference hall. I gaped at him, stupefied, but Callaghan merely shrugged and asked if I were fine.

Dreadful, indeed.

The shouting match must have been a big blow to Callaghan’s reputation, but it only increased his popularity. The entire student body greatly admired his courage to speak up against a teacher, and a renowned one at that.

“Stop it,” I would hiss at them, “You are encouraging him.”

The faculty adored Callaghan, and so they all put the blame on me, thinking that my president was just defending me out of respect. I sulked by the stairs of the fire exit, weeping my eyes dry, but came out still a pompous man.

Callaghan noticed that my organizer was tear-stained, yet he did not comment on the matter. How typical it was for him to protect me, as if I needed it. I did not have an evil group of cheerleaders poking fun at my eccentricity, like the villains of a heroine’s adolescence, but each haughty girl resembled the faces of the faculty.

“He is an old fart, he really is.” Callaghan said softly, rubbing his nose on my neck.

“You never said those things to him before.” I ruffled his hair.

“I will not remain a passive lover.”

If you can speak after such a remark, I will award you a hundred points.



“FIVE STARS!”




“You are simply extraordinary!” Callaghan exclaimed, as soon as I presented a clear and organized events calendar for the office.

“How could something simple be extraordinary?” I was not in the mood to entertain flattery. I received a failing mark for the first time in my life, just because everyone hated me and my newfound bodyguard.

“Oh, I can bend everything to my desire,” He winked, spreading the calendar on the table. “Like words and their meanings. I cannot bend you, though. But I can bend you over the table, and…”

I rolled my eyes in silence and sat back to think. Everything was going according to the movie script, and the thought haunted me even during the day. I wouldn’t be surprised if a third party sprouted of nowhere, threatening to kill me if I continued to assist my superior.

I spoke too soon.

An antagonist was not a person. Rather, the antagonist was a whole FACTION. Girls who daydreamed about Callaghan and his deep voice overfed the Suggestions Box with love messages and pleas for him to go out with every one of them, even if they ranged from hundreds to thousands. I regularly rummaged the Box for REAL suggestions, but the hand-outs only consisted of lovesick handwriting. Callaghan read them all out of pity for the poor girls, and I was the unfortunate individual who was tasked to throw them in the garbage can and risk being spotted by ravenous she-animals.

Callaghan made the stupid mistake of making his love known. He would caress my cheek in class, fold paper airplanes containing words of love and fling them at my direction. He never allowed his eyes to stray away from me. At first I chose to pretend that it was nothing, but everyone started noticing my superior’s sudden infatuation. Instead of holding debates with voices that echoed throughout the whole classroom, he would lean close and whisper while I gaped at him.

Third parties and love polygons are familiar formulas. I am not used to competition, so you could guess how horrible I felt.

Love complicates things. I was perfectly happy serving him as a right-hand-man and confidante. I looked up to him and respected him for his sheer greatness and elegance, but he turned into a smitten little boy, with eyes tuned up at me in longing. I was torn from accepting this metamorphosis as a necessity and serving a man of distinction. Then there was love. I was confused. If love was like those in the movies, then all the married couples in the world would be hankering imbeciles with low-level thinking.

The following night I stared blankly at my organizer. I forgot how to write. I placed it carefully in the bottom drawer and bit my lip.



“Endlessly Phenomenal.”


Callaghan invited himself in my dorm room. He inspected the corners and cabinets to see if I was living life properly, and lied down on my bed, satisfied.

“Sir, I have a question to ask. But it’s fine if we don’t discuss it yet, since you look so tired.”

“Tired is right,” The blonde agreed, pulling me beside him, “But I have time to listen.”

“This is all a joke, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“That you love me.”

Callaghan laughed and kissed my forehead. “Yes, yes, it is hilarious, isn’t it? That I’m in love with you. But not all jokes are funny, and not all funny things are jokes. Why do you think I spend time with you so often? Have you little faith in me?”

“These days, there have been doubts,” I admitted, “But you can’t blame me. Why the sudden change? This is the entire movie’s fault. Ever since we watched that film, you have been doing all these crazy things. Normal men would not lie beside each other, and touch each other like we do.”

“So that is your problem,” Callaghan said. “I’m a man.”

I shook my head. “It never even crossed my mind, honest. And I am not disturbed by it. What’s disturbing me is your inappropriate behavior.”

“Is it because I nibbled your earlobe in front of our Chemistry professor last week?”

“The MOVIE, Sir. Why on earth do you appreciate such a grotesque portrayal of first love then apply it in your daily life?”

He blinked. “What movie?”

Callaghan owned a very high IQ. He should have remembered the blasted film that had woken us both from our peaceful slumber. That was why my jaw simply dropped.

“The MOVIE! The one with the childhood friends who eventually became lovers!”

“That sounds like our story, doesn’t it?”

I glared at him. “Exactly! Listen, sir. You are the person I respect most above anyone else. I would serve you with everything I have. But I do not like it if you treat me like…like those girls in the movies. Those that can be twisted by flowers and…chocolate. I do not even LIKE chocolate. I detest it! Yet I do not detest you. Please, stop following the movie as an example. Stop degrading yourself.”

The blonde ran a hand through his hair and frowned. “I-I…I do not remember any movie. But I do remember we watched something…ahh yes. We were seated beside each other, and you were saying something about how nasty the movie was. I never knew. I just gazed at you, transfixed, as if I have never seen you before. Have you ever realized that you have a fine nose? The way your lips moved, I memorized it.

Then I knew I just had to tell you. There are great moments, and they always fall short. I want to experience great years with you. These years I kept it all to myself because I prioritized duties first before my own needs. When you were seated beside me, when I felt the warmth of your legs, I wanted you. So I threw away all formalities and out came me,” Callaghan cleared his throat and nuzzled my hair. “It is a pity that I did not concentrate on the movie, though. Was it good?”

I was too shocked to speak.

“It was a mind-opener.” I finally choked out.

We slept beside each other that night, legs and arms and fingers entangled in the sheets, breathing the same air. In my dream I shared a dance with my suitor, underneath the moon, and my evil stepmother drowned in the pool.



“Best Picture!”



Love ruined us.

'Us' came to motion the next day. We held hands while walking along the corridors, and our arms swayed with each joyful step. We skipped and belted out old ballads and anthems with bellowing voices and laughing cheeks. We gazed at each other’s eyes and understood. This was love in its glory, not the unrequited love, or the tragic love, but the love that was recognized and embraced.

Numerous professors were scandalized with our acts but allowed us to carry on inside their classrooms, because they adored Callaghan and wanted to remain in his good side. They did not adore him as much as I did, though.

“What is wrong with you two?” Asked a timid girl, after we finished with ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ in clasping notes. It was dismissal time, and we were inside the cafeteria, feeding each other with spoonfuls of soup.

“There was this daisy, you see.” Callaghan explained, complete with informative gesticulations, “And a puppy. Daisies and puppies—“

“—and movies!” I added. We both howled in laughter. The girl ran back to her seat, scarred and afraid. Callaghan would crack jokes and I would chuckle, and nobody would understand. We were fools, you see. Insensible, muttering fools.

People would think that our outstanding academic performances would slide down and diminish, when in fact, they reached their peak. Callaghan promised me completion of my school-related projects, and they were fulfilled and materialized in front of my eyes. I was so moved that I went home to have a good cry, and the nasty blonde caught me and took advantage of my misery with another kiss.

Each time we kiss, there would be pots of gold and moonbeams and…OH GOD, I could place a million words after every sentence, but I could define that kiss, yes I could…and I could associate any word with love. Sweltering, boiling, uncanny, bliss, all words I could roll off my tongue to produce a definition, a dictionary could be opened and closed and I would point every term. But love was best defined through actions, because words failed me when I try to speak of it. I knew what he knew.

I sound stupid. That is what you want to say.

Callaghan proceeded from being a quiet, classy president to a wacky, comical head of the student body. Yes, everyone still loved him. The faculty continued to scorn me and my gloomy existence, but hate is such a strong word I cannot define even if my opponent is a box full of unanswered suggestions.

There was this movie we watched, and I don’t really remember the exact details. It was very forgettable, most likely. There was a woman and a man, and they were in love. Movie-goers would dream of such things, and some would laugh at them. Callaghan and I risked our well-regarded and esteemed personalities for a chance of happiness. All went well. This can be applied to everybody, it does not matter. Freedom is to all.

Those who can afford to laugh and dream are those who are truly happy.

Callaghan dyed his hair black. Crazy, isn’t he? But oh, I loved the hair. It was for a costume-party, and he looked splendid. Like moonbeams. Like this movie we watched. Movie directors take from us our time, efforts and money, but in return they feed our souls.

There was this costume-party. I loved it! I loved Callaghan and his hair. I loved the whole package. What the heck am I saying? I’m not supposed to talk like I’m—oh, like I’m a common person. You cannot just love an object, or an abstract thing. It is given to the fools. I am deviating from the subject, excuse me. Where was I?

Oh yes, Callaghan and I walked together last night. I told him something.

“I know this is awfully late, and my mind is a bit jumbled up since this morning, when you made me laugh. You see, I’ve unearthed the meaning of these weeks, and it has brought me to a conclusion. Wait, let me consult my organizer.”

Callaghan patiently waited as I scoured my bag for my trusted school supplies. “I have been with you for years, and I do not tire of you and your mysterious smiles. I think about you in between meals, which is such a shame, because I love eating and concentrating on WHAT I’m eating. There has been a disturbance in my line of thinking, and it is always in the presence of your voice. Your name is written all over the events calendar. Therefore, I conclude that I love you. And skipping men should be legalized.”

Callaghan held my hand, and we jumped along the pathway, chuckling over nothing and EVERYTHING. The people stared, and we basked in their confusion. I loved Callaghan! My steps told them. I love him!

I love!




***



”’Dost thou love me?’ implored the somber daisy.”

It was Saturday morning, and Callaghan was trying to woo me awake with awful poetry.

“Silence.” I mouthed, and kissed him hard.