So, Thursday was one of the greatest moments in my entire life, and let me explain why.
Back when I first met a friend of mine, I fell instantly into a crush with her. She was the first girl I had had real feelings for in the past 6 months or so since my split with my ex. So of course, as any nerd would do, I bought her a bouquet of roses. She seemed to like them, and seemed very flattered. Nothing of course romantically ever happened between us, we are just insanely now the best of friends.
Today, a few months later, I wasn’t in the greatest mood, and she took me from our school (well, the park beside it) to her home. I had never been to her house before, so this was certainly a new one. Her home-unlike my own-had a very warm, kind of loving family feel to it, which was something I knew was familiar, as mine had that feel many many years ago. She’s 17 and it still has it. She’s lucky. I really enjoyed meeting her family, and then we went into her room and hung out. She showed me jewelry that her mother and grandmother gave to her-mostly earrings-and then countless articles of clothing which I must admit were all pretty cool. Bodices and corsets and the like. Then as she dived deeper into the depths of her closet, she unearthed the bouquet of roses that I had bought for her months before. She said she had hung them upside down and dried them out, but she still kept them. And two seconds after that, I learned that I-Mark Wiland-was the first person to ever give her a bouquet of roses.
Now let me just stop here for a second ok? First of all, WOW, I am NEVER first in things. So that’s a big deal. The even BIGGER deal, is that a sweetheart like herself would keep something I thought was so fleeting. I assumed she may have just tossed them once they died a week later or something, but no, months later she still had them. The fact that a girl-let along a girl I had feelings for-kept something I bought her, means the WORLD to me. It was one of the most touching, endearing moments in my entire life and I will remember it forever, even if it means nothing to anybody else.
It also reassured me that some people really do care about me and the things I bring to them.
And that means a lot to a manic depressive, semi-suicidal writer.
m@rk
