Being that Annie is a good friend (whose brain is besotted with emotion), she's willing to hear anything Joseph wants to say in hopes that he’ll continue to seek out her company, every day, and though dogs need to be walked, that doesn’t mean Joseph has to meander down this particular alley where his whistle alerts Annie that pleasure awaits her presence, right? As weeks become months, this tall, blond boy and small, brunette girl's mutual friendship continues to deepen—meaning that secrets of the heart are freely expressed—secrets, which would never have been divulged to others—he to me and he to me—because in truth, I have a heartfelt secret that cannot be freely shared with anyone beyond myself—so sure am I that if this secret is exposed, my heart’s secret crush will turn away and run as fast as he can anywhere that I am not, leaving me feeling all alone surrounded by echoes of guys laughing so hard as to shatter the shell of self protection layering up around my heart, releasing a riptide of unshed tears to drown my current state of happiness in last semester’s traumatic experience, all over again—so you can see why my preteen need to safeguard Joseph’s ‘friendship’ feels subconsciously determined to keep him in the dark about how deeply his presence delights my heart. On the other hand, having reflected over puzzling events, long past, I can reveal a secret that I’d kept from myself until insight emerged, spotlighting my inner need to expand the narrow scope of yesteryear’s viewfinder so as to simplify the emotional complexity that had seriously compromised a young girl’s perception of self—
Had repressed trauma not sabotaged my self image to feel deeply conflicted about being worthy of love, every fiber of my being would have openly placed my heart within the hands of this blond, blue-eyed boy’s safe keeping. Every poetic heart string connected to my processor would have composed lyrics such as these: The moment I laid eyes on you my heart was yours for the taking. Your high spirited spark of vibrancy magnetizes my heartfelt attention whenever you are near. If feelings suppressed felt free to emerge, we’d see the scenery on this stage magically transform well tended suburban flower beds into wildly entangled jungle vines hanging from trees where no propriety inhibits my voice from clearly exclaiming: Me Jane—you Tarzan, signaling you in your loin-cloth to sweep my leopard skinned torso into your arms where I’ll swoon with pleasure of what’s to come as we swing from tree to tree while right on cue the lighting crew behind the scenes highlights the most magnificent sunset ever seen, and just before the curtain drops on act one, my budding sensuality awakens to the natural thrill of love's first kiss...
Ahhh...the innocent daydreams of youth! Be careful, Annie. Wishes granted bear surprises—some nice, some not ... BTW—
Please do not dismiss my passion for Joseph as PUPPY LOVE.
My heart’s secreted desire carried that torch for years after our safe haven of friendship found itself unexpectedly cast into the explosive fires of pre-teen hell where the searing pain of first love’s demise burned straight through my wall of denial, leaving my confounded think tank tied so tightly to the stake of self doubt, as to reignite my conflicted identity crises each time so much as a hint of yesteryear’s smoky ember of tensely repressed self rejection felt reason to flare, searing my self confidence with guys throughout most of my adult life ...
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