The people who know me best know that i attract creepers. I honestly don't do this on purpose. Guys who attach themselves to me and act like we're best friends when we met once. A creeper is someone who sits down in the library at the same table as you because its raining outside, and starts asking 20 questions. Then he acts you for your name and you give him your real one and 2 days later you have a facebook request from him. In my creative writing class our assignment was to write about a disturbed person. I wrote about what i know, creepers. I took creepers from my friend's lives, movies and my own life to create my character. Enjoy and please let me know what you think.
Obsessed
Close your eyes: Imagine a tall and lean guy, shoulders back standing in front of you. He has a David Beckham six-pack. He could be your friend from football or your friend’s prom date. Everyone knows his name and wants to be around him. He is a jock who parties but would be willing to give you the clothes off his back. Now take this image of the boy and put him in the trashcan of your mind because he and I are nothing alike, opposites even.
My lime green rolling backpack snags my shoe as I enter the cafeteria, looking for a familiar face. Every seat is taken, but above the hum of lunchtime, I hear her. I turn towards Erin, my crush. She is surrounded, everyone hanging onto her every word. Christopher, a football player, nearly walks into me and yells, “Watch out dweeb,” I pick up my musty camouflage fishing hat and wipe the sweat that had built on my left brow. I finally hear my best friend Jay call me over to our small table in the back. I set my lunch down and angle myself so I can continue to stare at Erin. A stray tendril falls into her face as she reaches down for another bite, and she pushes the brown lock back up into her messy bun. “Beautiful,” I say with a yearning sigh. Jay pokes me trying to bring me back to reality and whispers: “Austin, come on”.
I’ve never been on a date. The only time girls talk to me is if they want a good grade. Sophomore year, I had history with a bunch of Erin’s friends, and they decided I should be their partner on a class project. I figured out quickly I was going to do the research on English Royalty in the Renaissance and they were going to do the poster. I thought that I could use the project for my advantage. I would get them a good grade, and they would give me details all about Erin. I tried to make my questions subtle but they caught on and just wanted to focus on the project and dismissed me. As they walked away from me, one day after class, I heard Erin’s best friend laugh and say “obsessive much.” For the rest of the project I acted robot-like, agreeing with every idea.
My older sister Amy repeatedly says I’m a loser, and I’m beginning to believe it. Amy doesn’t understand how I feel about Erin. As I sit at the dining room table eating dry chicken my mom insisted on making, I stroke my pet snake, Erin. I drink my Welchs Grape Juice and tell my mom that I need a ride to the mall on Saturday because I want to catch a romantic comedy with some friends. Amy rolls her eyes, because she knows while Erin is shopping for her friend birthday I am going to stalk Erin. I clean up the dishes and give Amy a glare, hoping she won’t tell my secret. I go up to my loft, covered with pictures of Erin. I used a full-length picture from our yearbook and turn it into a life size cardboard cutout.
I sit down on my bed surrounded by Erin’s images on my pillows and write
another letter I will never send. Dear Erin, I have 1000 things to say to you. Most of it is
my fondness I have for you. I want to tell you of the dreams I’ve never shared
with another soul. I want to hear your voice for the rest of my life. I want to walk with you, holding hands, jump in the leaves. I want to hear your laugh and bury my face in your neck and hair and just stay there, enjoying your fragrance. I want to be your intimate friend and strong provider. I yearn to be the precious treasure of your heart. I love to hold you in my thoughts as the trees blow and the rain falls. This morning, the sun was breaking through the clouds to the east, and I thought of you because I wanted to share it with you. Fifteen times this past weekend I wanted to share thoughts and sights and feelings with you. I have incredible passion for you that sears my brain and lights my life. I want to defend you from the horrors of this world, so your eyes only see things of beauty. Know that you are very lovely in my eyes. Beautiful. Cherished. Sensitive. Deep. Sensual. Dynamic. I love all these things about you. Yours truly, Austin.
I walk a few extra blocks from my small apartment through the streets with houses made from brick to Erin’s house everyday, but we never cross paths going to school. My sister was on the same soccer team as Erin’s sister, so I know where she lives. During our junior year, Erin ran for Homecoming Princess and lost. She was completely devastated and I felt bad for her. I used the money I made from tutoring to order a flower basket, and Homecoming Princess shirts and banners, and had it delivered with a note that read You’re the Homecoming Princess in my eyes. Love, Your Prince.
I spent all summer mustering up my confidence and planning the perfect way to ask Erin to prom. In school I nervously walked by her every chance I got, trying to define her facial expressions of excitement, disappointment and boredom. Three months before prom arrived, I was getting into my sister’s dirty forest green Corolla at school and something caught my eye. Across the lot, Erin’s baby blue Volkswagen Bug had balloons and paint all over it. It read: “Will you make my senior year and go to prom with me? –Christopher”. The football player who had picked on me through high school asked Erin out. I lost my chance and already bought the tickets. I waited in the car shaking with rage. As I watched Erin came out with her friends, I counted to a hundred trying to calm my nerves. Her smile, though not intended for me, still lit up my world when she saw the car. I wanted to scream so loud that my body would ache, but instead I sat in the car watching, wishing I were anywhere but here.
When prom finally came, my friends decided they didn’t want to go, so I walked in a rented black tux to the Indianapolis Hilton hotel. As I walked through the doors I knew this was going to be a good night. I saw Erin standing perfect waiting for the grand ballroom doors to open. Her hair was done with tiny flowers in it. She was wearing a knee length light pink dress that looked as if it were custom made for her. My digital camera nearly slipped from my sweaty palms as I asked Erin if we could take a picture together. Erin smiled and said, “yes” as if not even thinking about it. That not only made my senior prom amazing, but it made me feel invincible instead of invisible.
When graduation day arrived, all I could think about was Erin, and how I wouldn’t see her for a long time, or ever again. All the seniors were signing yearbooks when Erin asked for Jay’s yearbook. After she wrote a short message in his, she glanced over to me and asked for mine next. In bright pink sharpie she wrote “Thanks for making me feel like the queen of the world all these years. I appreciate it. Good luck on your college adventure. –Erin”. The day after graduation I packed up all my Erin memorabilia and tossed it in the fire pit at Jay’s bonfire. Except the picture from prom- I still sleep with that under my pillow every night and hope to find a girl as perfect as Erin in college who will share the same feelings as I do.
