Journal: July 13, 1991Background: An excerpt from my journal entry that I found particularly passionate and honest. I was 19 years old at the time. My girlfriend -- Amy -- had moved back home at her parents request because they did not want her getting seriously involved with someone (me) who was not a returned Mormon missionary. It had been nearly three months since I had seen her- we had talked about working things out remotely so we could get married, but it never worked out. In July of 1991, I was a compassionate, heartbroken boy who missed the love of his life more than anything else. Everybody knows
These sleepless nights
Your letters I read It has been almost three months now since I bid a supposedly short farewell to Amy. I do not go a single day without thinking about her. I cannot stop reminding myself how wonderful the time was that I spent with her. I cannot stop recollecting the scenes of the days we spent together. I can't forget the love we shared and the beauty therein. It hurts me deeply that she could not stand up to for me and say "He's a good person and I love him!" to her narrow-minded parents who forbade her to see me. I know she has been, and may still be, quite confused. I know that when I go up and see her something big is going to CLICK in her head when she sees my eyes and the sincerity and comfort that they offer to her. She is probably going to become frightened at that point of her own feelings that are resurfacing as a result of seeing me again. It is unlikely, but possible, that she will realize that her desire for me is what she wants no matter how conflicting it may be with what her parents want. That is what I want her to se, but I doubt it will happen, at least not until later. I feel that when I do come face to face with Amy, I must remain very low-profile. If I get too ``mushy,'' I will appear as threatening -- like her biological father. But I don't want to leave her without giving her some assurance that I care. Everytime I crawl into bed, I feel a seemingly infinite emptiness come over me as I remember having her body next to mine. I remain sleepless as I contemplate ways to approach her upon my future visit. I am constantly flooded with scenes in my mind reminding me of the joy that we shared. I will never forget the look on her face that appeared every time I handed her a rose ``for no reason.'' I will never forget fixing popcorn for this young woman late at night. How could I ever forget walking down to Adams Park with an iced tea and parmessan popcorn on a chilly Sunday afternoon to swing in the playground together? |