Love Stories and Just Stories(short story)

What do we ever learn from love? Love is a simple fuel that powers us intead of other aspirations. The geniuses and Philosophers through out time have lived with there work as there love. Love Requires nothing and frees you from the burden of other expectations. Not everyone can be Enstine or Socrates because if they were there would be no future generation to learn from them. Love is a need and a very strong one at that but what of loves concequences? Yes love makes us ignorant of aspiration, so that when love is lost so to is that protection from our own Aspiration.

I had never truly thought of my future because it seem almost as if it belonged to someone else. Now after the major heartbreak by she-who-will-not-be-named I face my fate with the same unchanging expersion in my brown eyes, my matching brown hair pulled back so it would not get into them. My hair was almost pinned between my head an the pillow. It wasnt long so much as shaggy, the way I liked it to draw attention from my slightly large ears. I just layed there streaching out across my queen sized bed that was pushed into the corner of my room. My room looked empty almost naked now with nothing but my bed on the left and my computer desk and tv on the right. The only thing not depressing about the room where the blue sheets on my bed that where now made that way by my sad figure laying on them.

Once upon a time that room had lots of personal photos and items from she-who-will-not-be-named but I had taken all of that and put it in a box labled you guessed it She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named. It was a bad break up and I cant even see how it happened. We had been dating since freshmen year and we did everything together or Mabey we had done everything together. Well except for that. Then mabey thats the problem or I wasnt paying enough attention to her? I stopped tha process before it could start. I had never been the kind of guy that looks back because whats done is done but now thats just what I was doing looking back.

I laid there looking at the cieling and feeling stupid for both looking back and not having anything else to do. I was ofcourse the one to get hurt this time around because I am so frigin emotionaly fragile. I couldnt be the guy that gives just chocolates or flowers on valentines or the guy who dosnt do somthing stupidly big for her birthday. I always listened when she wanted to talk and I asked what was wrong when she seemed troubled. I am the kind of guy who couldnt be two inches from her without thinking about kissing her. What could it be? Again I stopped myself but added a distraction to the mix. I poped off my bed and grabed my wireless keyboard from my desk, turned the computer on and sat back on my bead. I watched as the fifty four inch tv connected to my monitor came to life. My parents did two things right work and buy presents. This gift was a great christmass present and certainly wouldnt sit by the guitar I had wanted so bad two years ago. With all the free time I was spending staring at the wall I could learn to play that guitar.

The computer was already on and I had started up Word Document and named the file Reasons to Never Fall In Love and Tips To Avoid it. Now this was probably the worst idea I would ever have but dang if it didnt feel right at the time. I typed away reason after reason starting with Broken Heart and ending with she-who-will-not-be-named with a few hundred words inbetween. Our First Love is the thing that sets all of our future relationships up for failure and at the rate I was going I would be doomed for life. I even realized that while typing but I just couldnt stop. That list became an idea and an odd one at that, given that it was not somthing that I would have usualy done but I hadnt done anything that was like me in years. Well except for being the hopeless romantic I was. Believe it or not that list of reasons became a rather long short story about a rather odd domino effect.

I wrote about heartbreakers one would break anothers heart making them break anothers and it went in a circle until someone broke the heart of the origional heartbreaker. I was so impressed with the work that I had been doing that I emailed it to a big short stories contest that I had looked up on google at three in the morning. It was a good feeling geting all the crap that was my relationship out of my system even if the story would probably never be read.

I guess its true that time heals all wounds but it happened surprisingly quick. I started jokeing with my friends about all the old things, even the stuff I couldnt when I was dating she-who-will-not-be-named. I never told my friends about my new writing hobby mostly becouse they wouldnt relate and partly becouse they wouldnt understand. My ideas were flowing and after a month of akwardness around she-who-will-not-be-named I began to not notice the fact that we had every class together. Sometimes I would see her glancing my dirrection and a few times she looked like she was going to say somthing but my facial expression probably had a "Dont Even Try" look that dissuaded her.

After another week or two I recieved an email from the book publisher in charge of the writing contest I had entered. and to my surprise they wanted to meet with the top eight writers and I am one of those people. I sent the reply back with a yes with out even telling my parents about it, not that they would have much of an opinion on it eather way. The meeting was set for two weeks after my reply and I was realy excited about it. I was so excited that my friends even took note of it and I almost told them about the whole thing but I liked the secret part of it so I couldnt explain it.

As the time got closser I started writing more and more. I even started paying atention in english class, well when I wasnt writing that is. It wasnt a well kept secret by then I was writing in class all the time, though I never explained what I was Writing but my friends and even the classmates I didnt normaly talk to would ask me what I was writing. I would always look at them, smile, and then go back to writing. My writing must have also gotten better because all of my essays recieved higher scores and notes on how good they where. Usualy when I recieved notes it was to comment on the sarcastic remarks I added for humor. When the day finnaly arived for the contest meeting I had memorized the location and planned how I was getting there and back. I was excited to see what the inside of a book publishers office looks like and I was also preaty excited to hear about my story. Even if I was the worst of the eight authors I would still get the thousand dollar award for it.

When I walked in there was a lady waiting at the counter for the short story contest winners. Since I had my invotation printed out in my had she knew who I was. She introduced herself as Mrs Sadie and gave me a firm hand shake with a warm smile. She seemed like a realy intresting person and because of her age I couldnt believe she was already an editor. When you think editor you think gray haired gentlemen not a twenty three year old (my asumption) red head with pink lipstick and hazel eyes. Meeting such a beautiful young editor would normaly be the highlight of anyones day, week, or month but just like me a girl came stumbling in carrying a printed out letter in her left hand.

The note was the first thing I noticed, then the odd assortment of braclets on that hand. and slowly I had a picture of the girl from head to toe. She had long brown hair that hung down , shinning brown eyes that werent hidden behind her glasses. She also had pink lipstick but you couldnt notice it becouse of her amazingly perfect white teeth that showed with her large smile. She wasnt so much beautiful as just perfect. She was what my brain would come up with as the most possibly my type a girl could be. More than any actress, model, or she-who-will-not-be-named could ever be. I was about to introduce my self or try because it would have mostly come out in "ugh's and um's" when Mrs. Sadie cut me off(thankfully) and gave her the same greating she gave me. We recieved badges with our names on them. Mine had my full name posted first and last but I couldnt see her badge without looking down and there are risks to looking down.

We walked to a small room where there were already six more people sitting in classic school desks and facing a smartboard. I was surprised at how young everyone was in the room. There was only one person who looked older than Mrs. Sadie and he could have been more than thirty. I just chalked it up to being that mostly smart college kids intering these contests. I sat down behind the older guy who I knew was Tom Warsaw from his name badge. The girl with the bracelets sat up front before I could read her name badge. Mrs. Sadie went to the front, hit a few keys on the computer conected to the smartboard, and began to talk to the eight person crowd.

I kind of spaced out when she talked about the history of the contest but I was probably the most attentive when she started talking about the short stories themselves. The braclets girl was apperantly a writing genius and she was the winner, closely followed by Tom and a half asian college girl. To my surprise I was number four despite my lack of literary techniques. It felt odd when they were making plans on how to publish are stories. Since my story was about hearbreak it would be displayed next to braclet girl's. Her story was the exact opposite of mine, even the names were diffrent. My story was called "The Karma Of Heartbreak" and hers was" Meeting That Special Someone" I didnt realy like the name of her story but I could tell why she won when they let us read each others stories. Tom's story was more my type though. His story was about rebellion and the founding fathers, It was like James Bond set durring the Revolution. I wanted to talk to him about it but I wanted to talk to braclets girl more, for a diffrent reason though.

We had the option to stay or we could take a tour of the company. Both Tom and bracelets girl were staying so I decided to stay aswell. Also I realy wanted to see the inside of a book publishing office. Only four of us were left but there was a tall guy who joined Mrs. Sadie in giving the tour. While we were walking down the hall I moved over next to bracelets girl and in a whispered tone said "Hi, Im Jasper" she didnt seem surprised that I talked to her and she responded with "I know".

I wasnt sure what to say after that so we walked in silence stoping ocasionaly to listen to the tour guide. After a long and quite five minutes I began to talk again "MarryLou is a preaty name" It was a dumb comment but I had caught a glance of her name tag during the silence. She smiled as if what I said had been funny and sighed like she was going to give a long speech next "It is my pin name. Its from a character in one of my favorite books". I now had a good idea of what book it was too but she was still talking in her sighed explanation voice "The book is On The Road by Jack Kerouack. It is one of my favorite books and I doubt you would like it".

I was right about the book and It was also one of my faovites. I had read it last summer when she-who-will-not-be-named went on a cruise with her family and when I tried to bring it up she would just talk about Nicolas Sparks books which looking back I hated. I ofcourse jumped in automaticly "I loved On The Road!" We spent the next thirty minutes talking about our favorite parts of the book and only stopped to listen to occasional things that the tour guide said.

We sat down at the buildings cafeteria and she said what I had expected to hear since the begining "I didnt think we would have anything in common becouse of how diffrent our stories are." I tensed up a bit thinking about how she-who-will-not-be-named used to joke about how we had nothing in common and that was why we made such a good couple. she continued but I eased up at the next words "I mean your story seems so love cynical". Now it was my turn to smile like she said somthing funny. I opened the bag I had been carrying and pulled out a five subject spiral bound notebook and handed it to her saying "I am most certainly not a love cynic". She opened it read a few pages and obviously got what I ment. My latest stories were in that notebook and they were all just as romanticly sappy as hers(but probably not as good). She looked at me and a confused expression spread across her face "Then why is your story like that?"

I looked at her almost trying to explain it with my eyes since my mouth and brain couldnt find the words. I paused and then started again with a question "Do you remember the character Sam in my story?" she nodded "Do you remember how she broke up with the guy using the classic its not you its me line? she noded again. "Well that is how my ex-girlfriend Samantha dumped me" I looked at her trying to read her expression before I asked another question to clear the topic "So what is your real name or do I have to keep refering to you as braclet girl, MaryLou, or She-Who-Will-Not-Give-Me-Her-Name in my head?" She smiled and leaned back in her chair leaving me feeling kind of foolish. The smile appeared again and she started talking in a way so sweet that it can only be described as milk chocolatey "Its Abby and What your saying is that you dont have a girlfriend?"