Something that will never change is the way I see his eyes. To most people, they’re just a dark shade of brown; but I know that if you look at the right time, and at the right angle that they are as golden as a virgin flame. I know that when you’re in the passenger side of his jeep driving home from a football game at dusk, that last little bit of sun will dance around in his eyes making uneven flexes of gold play a chasing game until the sun has finally set in the sky.  He’ll try to talk to you about the game, or the music on the radio but you’ll be too distracted by his eyes because they tell a story louder than whatever is coming out of his mouth. Ever since I was thirteen I would try to spot those dancing sparks in his eyes. Even through all the phases of life I knew he was beautiful because of his eyes, no one else agreed for a long time. They couldn’t see past his greasy floppy hair and ill fit clothing at the age of fifteen; people would always ask me ‘why do you like him? He isn’t even attractive!’ and I, as the love struck teenager would always respond with, “Well because to me… he’s perfect”.  This would say be my answer to why I had such affections to this boy for the next two and a half years of my young life, that’s was until they day he started to acknowledge my existence. It was probably one of the hardest struggles I went through. Trying to make myself big enough so he could finally see me. It wasn’t even until I gave up my first kiss to his best friend that he started to realize me. He started to realize how I was constantly in his life, something he had missed those first couple of years. I thought at first the hard part of life was living so close to him was that he didn’t even realize I was alive. I had no idea that I should have left it at that.

That once this boy realized I would do anything for him and I mean anything… that my life would never be the same. I had willing… no not even willing, that wasn’t the correct word… I pushed my self into his world. Pushed so hard until he finally had to open up to me and let me in.  I thought I had finally won. That now after I had finally forced open that door by pounding on it with both hands, I thought that I would now live my life in Never Ever Land.

At that point I needed to believe that this would be good. That he would at some point feel the same as I do… Did. I was ready to give this my all, I knew at fifteen he was what I wanted and needed in my life. It was all planned out in my mind. I had figured out; I loved him and he was going to fall in love with me. Why was I so sure he was going to fall in love with me? I thought we were soulmates. And even after every single shit filled moment of our lives together, I still believed. Again and again I told myself that I would pick up every single broken shard of my heart and hand it back over to him… pieces of my broken bleeding heart that would cut me deep every damn time I collected them back up for him. I kept doing this for years and years, giving him every part of my mind and soul. I figured that if I kept doing this he would just realize one thing. That he wanted me to be his soulmate back. –

I wrote that passage 4 years ago. I’m glad to say that I’ve finally forgotten how (at the right time) you can see the gold in his eyes.