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Intangible MAG
I wouldn't call myself your average mainstream high school senior. I might more properly be considered an over-achiever who wants to be an under-achiever. I try but those term papers always seem to be done on time. Go figure.
We'll learn something in class and an uncontrollable urge will crawl up from the curiosity sections of my brain, seeping though my tired spinal cord, pulling at my nerves until my hand jerks up involuntarily to ask that question that just doesn't need to be asked. I suppose I am looked down upon by my peers for caring about the curriculum, but learning has always been a social fault of mine.
I make it common practice not to care about what the other students say, and I am quite good at ignoring them. I never thought I could share this information with my classmates who consider me a nerd, but one of them dared to listen and now she knows all of this. I did not intend to fall for anyone but now it has uncontrollably swept upon me like a biting winter storm powerfully pushing away calm autumnal weather. I am now uncontrollably engulfed inside this intense storm with the cold and stinging snow growing thicker and heavier, blurring my hazy vision. As it impairs my sight, it wakes my other senses like smelling salts would wake a fainted person.
My ears detect her warm and hospitable laughter like the soporific sweet sounds of a precious sonata. I can smell her near me like being transported into a comfortable tropical paradise amassed with orchids, roses, and carnations from all colors of the wondrous spectrum. I can iitaste the aura of sweetness like Maine lobster, an Italian wine, and a French dessert. I try to touch her but my insecurities stop me sharp like a concrete wall that does not exist. I try to open my eyes but the storm is everywhere around with the only shelter being my hopeful imagination with her.
I can write no longer for only she can produce the ending that I leave in her soft and capable hands. She has the magical ability like no one else at my large school to see through me, to know me for what I am. I am hoping she will see this writing for what it is and indeed we will brave the storms of high school and whatever lies ahead together and let not the most cruel of ripping storms tear us apart. n
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