A Spark of Hope | Teen Ink

A Spark of Hope

December 13, 2012
By cayaTW PLATINUM, Yuma, Arizona
cayaTW PLATINUM, Yuma, Arizona
29 articles 0 photos 83 comments

Favorite Quote:
Those who forget history will often repeat it

Now that I think about it, it was love at first sight.
I just didn't know it yet, but I bet he knew.
I reflect on that day we formally met and I shook his hand.
He looked me in the eyes a little longer than usual; I found that strange.
Until later, I never pondered that in that moment there was a spark.
Someone asked if I had a thing for him and I said no, but from that moment on I did.
I was embarrassed and ashamed, my attraction to him wasn't right.
Moments where we exchanged words were very few.
And for some reason, I couldn't look at him, that I couldn't stand.
He was slightly more than half my age.
The state of mind I was in was dark.
I couldn't climb out if the world forbid.
However, I was a better person than most.
I know he saw that because he complimented me on it.
The year ended and we were not in the same department anymore; before I departed I took a souvenir.
Yes, the next year I was a little sad, but I got to see him because he was right next door to my department.
It was uncomfortable to pass by him because I felt his eyes on me and his yearning to talk to me and have a conversation we never had.
I mistook it!
It wasn't love at first sight like I established almost.
However, a spark was lit.
He would observe my sad days and mad days during that year.
I acted with great manners and a big deal that meant.
Let's just say it wasn't a fad.
It wasn't love one bit, maybe admiration, but not love one bit.
I think that when he sees me despite the world around us he sees hope; I don't mind it and I certainly don't boast.
I guess after all he's been through and all those things life brings, he sees a spark of hope when he sees me.

This girl, who is she?
I have never seen her in this department before.
She walks up to me and tells me she's new, and I shake her hand; there's something in her eyes, a kind of sadness, a form of weariness that reminds me of myself, but why so shy, quiet, and sad.
I know my story, but I don't know hers and how I wish I did; but she won't talk to me and I don't want to press her into a conversation.
She's not just sad I noticed but a little mad and slightly agitated like the world were torturing her.
I wish I could say something, but I don't want to cross a line.
Part of me wants to comfort her and tell not to be sad anymore, but why if I don't even know her.
The last day of the year arrived and she was the only one to take her portfolio which I noticed she clutched like a souvenir.
I was sad to see her leave and I think she wanted to tell me something before she left, but she did not.
I wish I would have talked to her more often.
She was the only one who had manners and intelligence.
The rest made me feel angry and annoyed, but she made me feel hope for the future.
From that same day I shook her hand she intrigued me because just looking at her eyes I saw a spark of hope.
This year our departments are next door and I can't help but look at her.
Perhaps maybe now I can talk to her and have that conversation we never had.
She doesn't say high, but I think she wants to.
I think she thought I loved her and it made her feel uneasy.
Now when I see her, I think she knows it's not love.
I think she knows I see a spark of hope when I see her.

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