Blank pages, filled with empty spaces and lost words, with idle thoughts and passionate prose dying to be put down. Yet nothingness corroded Charlie’s mind. All that came out were hollow words, void of all meaning and substance. And that’s not how love letters were supposed to go. They were supposed to be meaningful and heart wrenching, dramatic yet tasteful. And all Charlie could think to voice was: Your eyes are beautiful.

Charlie stared down at the pitiful sentence, scrawled in his poor handwriting, wanting to scream. Michelle was the most amazing girl he had ever met. She was funny and smart, beautiful but in the unconventional way. Charlie had stopped liking the cheerleaders when he was in the eighth grade. He had asked a girl out, the prettiest in the entire school. Of course she turned him down, but not tactfully. Her rejection definitely lacked tact. She had stood up in front of the lunch room, barely containing her laughter and shrieked, “Can you believe that Charlie asked me out?! Charlie?” she had spoken his name like it was the most ridiculous thing to ever come out of her mouth.

He knew he was rather geeky, reading and talking about science fiction or the latest DC comic to come out; he wasn’t all the good looking either. With deep brown hair, a pale freckled complexion, bent nose, and hazel eyes, he was far from a knock out. But he had at least thought the cheerleader would have let him down easy; instead he was harassed for the rest of the year. Everyone was apparently finding it just as funny that Charlie could have asked her out.

But Michelle was different. Down to earth and kind. She was in his Chemistry 101 class at the college and understood most of the concepts better than he did. She had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Nothing really stood out about her until she smiled. And Michelle didn’t half smile, the joy always reached her eyes, and then they sparkled. And her hair seemed to catch the light and shine like the sun. She had to be one of the most beautiful girls Charlie had ever met. Not pretty, beautiful.

So he could not simply write about her eyes. He had to write more than that, he had to truly put his feelings into words, but he couldn’t. The blank page seemed to laugh, mocking him for his stupidity.

Before he could write: I like it when your hair shines, it was time to start to classes, and Chemistry 101 was his first period of the day; that was when he saw Michelle. And it wasn’t as if he could hand her this pitiful excuse of a declaration of love. Perhaps, he thought, when he saw her all the words would start to flow and he would tell her all his feelings, right there in the lecture hall. And Michelle wouldn’t turn him down, she couldn’t. Michelle was too kind for that.

He ran, getting to class in a rush, hoping to catch her in time. The world seemed to fade and all he could think about was her, of being able to be happy. His heart beat hard in his chest, the blood rushing through his ears, but all he could hear was the sound of her voice. Charlie burst into the class room, his hair strewn across his face, a sloppy smile plastered from ear to ear.

“Michelle,” he cried, trying to find her friendly face among all the other students. “Michelle,” he called again, his eyes roving the room. Finally he found her, and he scrambled down, tripping over steps, and he said, with only a sliver of doubt in his mind, “Will you go out with me?”
Part of him wished he had better words; Michelle deserved poetry, but right now the question was all he could manage.

“What?” her voice had gone up three octaves, shock coloring her eyes, her sparkling blue eyes.

“Will you go out with me?” Charlie repeated breathlessly.

“On a date?” Michelle asked her voice heavy.

“Yes,” Charlie replied promptly trying to keep the uneasiness out of his voice.

Michelle said nothing, only stared ahead with a mortified expression dragging down her lips.

“Well, will you?” Charlie urged, refusing to believe what was in front of him.

“No,” she said without a seconds’ hesitation. “No, I most definitely will not.” She turned away, shaking her head as she hurried to find her seat.

The class was staring at him, thirteen years later and yet still the same.

Throughout the day he stared at his paper. With blank lines and vapid clichés. What was the point of trying to explain the impossible? What had his whole life even been? Simply one failed attempt after another, the same useless sentiments and pleasantries. Why should he even care anyway?

And for the rest of the year he slid through life, a grey shadow to everyone else’s dazzling star. But harsh memories faded and wounds healed.

But he kept one thing the same: he stopped caring so much. The right words and being passionate drifted from his mind, vanquished from his thoughts. It didn’t serve a purpose; finding someone to make him happy wasn’t his only purpose.

And he was content, finally able to see all he had been blessed by. And, in his senior year he met Alice. With waving brown hair, brown eyes, and constantly wearing grey. Her smile was usually snarky, but her laugh was always genuine, crystal clear like bells on a summer day. On their first date every word that came out of her mouth was a lie, but so were his. They fought about stupid things and could never agree which was better: StarGate or Star Trek. Disagreements were waged about the proper way to fold laundry and which way to brush teeth. They weren’t overcome with a sudden mad passion, it was more a gentle lull; both felt the warm feeling of finding someone worth getting hurt over while also knowing they’d never break their heart. Charlie finally found the right words: I love you. And he didn’t have to come up with anything beautiful and heart wrenching, because when love is truly felt it is far more profound than any other words could proclaim.