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Unlike most Fridays, instead of seeing the wrinkled and horrible face of Mr. Phills entering the classroom, the students saw a young woman wearing a pretty smile on her lips. The class fell silent at her entering. She giggled."Good morning, students. I see you're quite confused." She vowed a little. "My name is Lucy Cooper. I'm currently replacing Mr. Phills, his health is not so good now, so you'll have to bear with me for a few weeks." She carefully tossed her books on the desk, then leaned on it. "So! Who are you, kids? Would you like to introduce yourselves?”No one answered immediately. The one who caught her attention the most was the individual wearing a particular mask.“Who are you?” She looked directly at them. The person blinked, she noticed something off with the right eye, was her imagination.“… My name is Sal. My friends call me Sally Face.” She blinked, a little taken aback by the deep voice of someone she thought first was a girl.Well, it wasn’t like she judged anyway.“It’s nice to meet you, Sal. Who’s your friend over there?” She signaled his seatmate, who grimaced.Just like that, they soon had names in Lucy’s head. Still, it wasn’t enough for her to form a bond. Not really. She moved around the classroom and stopped by the board.“Do you guys like to read?”Some said the typical “no” in unison, she caught Larry and Chug’s voices in it.“Depends.” Some said.“Yes.”“Well… let’s try something to, you know, track how are you guys doing with writing.”“What does that have to do with literature?” Asked Chug.“Well, it’s the theme of the essay.” Some widened their eyes. “I want you to write a love essay to someone.”Tons of “ughs” and “uhs” were heard, and she giggled, expecting that kind of reaction.“C’mon. How hard can it be? It’s like writing an anonymous love letter.” She shrugged and noticed Travis flinching from the corner. “It’s easy, you can get a good grade, why not? The only thing I request from you to start is this. Hopefully, you guys can make one full page, alright?”Some groaned at the order. Others didn’t say anything. Lucy noticed Sal, Larry and Ashley whispering to each other. They smiled, at least, Larry and Ashley did, but she was pretty sure Sal was happy as well.“If you want to write something meaningful, just to take it out of your heart, you can do it.” She suddenly said, catching everyone’s attention. “Something you may be suppressing… and it’s anonymous. Only I’ll be reading it, and I won’t give it back to you so you don’t have to share it even with friends.” She smirked at noticing some interested gazes at that.“Can you do that?” Asked Todd. “I mean, can teachers do that?”Lucy smiled.“Sometimes, but I want to keep them, considering I’m only replacing, I may not see you again.”To her surprise, most students were quiet and interested in their work. She walked around the classroom, noticing the way they wrote, how they struggled to put into words what was on their minds.It was a good exercise, not only for them, but to her as well, to know them better. At the end of the class, she got all her essays. Well, most of them. People were leaving, but a certain blond was still writing.“Travis? Classes are over.” She smiled kindly at him, noticing his page was almost torn by how much he used the eraser and almost tore the poor paper. Still, there was a lot of writing.“… I know.”She stood by him, patiently waiting for him, not insisting again. He cursed under his breath, not caring if she heard him or not.“… You really won’t share this with anyone?”“… Only with my pillow.” She shrugged.“… then fuck it.” She saw him write something else, then gave it to her. “Here. If I find out you showed this to someone…”“It’s OK.” She smiled. “I’ll keep them as a reminder of your hearts.”He softened his gaze a little, then rolled his eyes.“Tch. Whatever.”As she saw her last student leave, she stared at the little pile of papers she had to read. It was going to be a nice weekend.
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The first thing Lucy noticed about Chug’s essay was that he was very bad at writing. The calligraphy was awful, but understandable. And the way he wrote wasn’t that good either. Still, the content was quite… peculiar.She sat as she sipped a little of her tea and started.
Just like chocolate
I like chocolate. No. Scratch that. I LOVE IT. Its the best thing in the whole world. I cant enjoy a day without it. Chocolate makes me happy. Its my second favorite thing in the universe.
Yea you read right. Its the second best thing in the universe ‘cuz the very first thing I love the most is maple. No. No maple syrup.. maple syrup is fine but I mean Maple, my girlfriend. The gloomy chick siting right next to Ash. Do you know Ash? OK the thing is I love Maple.
Maple is my very best first thing in my life. I luv her, she make me feel like Im eating chocolate all the time… chocolate may fill my stomach but Maple fills my stomach, my body, my heart… wait, the body has the stomach and heart. Uh nevermind. The thing is Maple is… like chocolate. YEA SHE’S THE ULTIMATE CHOCOLATE
Maples my whole universe cuz she wont judge me by my looks. Im fat and little (you probably noticed that already), and I thought I had to do anything to look different for her but she got mad at me cuz of that
She told me I didn had to change myself she loved me just like that and I didn want to change her either. I mean, look at her, she’s perfect. Maple is the ultimate chocolate cuz Im fulfilled with her. All the time. I know it sound stupid, but Id like to be with her forever, hopefully marry her… have kids… you know. I don wanna tell her this yet I scared she may run away from all these wishes I have, so… Well, there you have.
I don’t know what else to say
She dropped the paper to the table, with a little smile adorning her lips. Well, the grammar was… not good, but the content was awfully nice. Lucy noticed the couple holding hands after leaving her class, but didn’t think much of it.Now she felt like she could buy some chocolate.
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Lucy noticed something in Ashley Campbell the moment she saw her when she introduced herself. She was pretty, and had unusual, bright, determined green eyes that tried to hide a darkness she refused to share. Too unusual from a girl like her. She seemed happy all the time, she even smiled while writing her essay.She smiled even writing the content she was sharing.She had a nice handwriting. Good grammar.… And an interesting heart.
Code message
I don’t know if I should call this a love letter. I don’t think it is. I’m pouring all my emotions out through this piece of paper with this one goal: Hide a message. You may be reading this, but, will you see through it? If you do, OK then. If you don't, that’s fair too.
Love is a concept I can’t comprehend, not completely. This paper must be having something related to love. But I’m not sure if I feel it. Can you love someone who hurt you? Many people think you can, but I don’t feel like I can love them. Does that mean I don’t understand how love works? Can you love someone without reason? I never understood those fairytales, I’m not gonna going to lie. I never understood why judging by a handsome appearance, the princess falls immediately with the prince. Why a prince? Can’t you love someone who’s not perfect?
I don’t believe in God. I’m an atheist. I never thought about something more superior than us could create such cruel creatures as us humans. I honestly think there’s little good in people. I was almost hopeless. Almost. But things change. New people arrive. And I wonder once again if what I feel is love.
Kissing someone that does not attract you is not weird for me. I kissed my childhood friend while he taught me how to play a wife in a house. He told me that was what his parents did because they loved each other. I saw my father doing something similar… but not with my mother.
Except, this not about them. It’s about someone else. I like people. I like my friends. I like my brother. They make my day. However, can I say for sure I feel love for them? They are the ones that gave me at least a side of what love is, at least, a piece of the puzzle I’m trying to build.
You asked us about a romantic love maybe? You didn’t specify, so I’m just writing about people that make me relate them with love, even if it’s good or bad. Still, there is someone that… I feel different with that person. I like them. They are good and kind, decent… A beautiful person. I feel different with that person. Is it bigger than anything else? Is it less? I just know is different.
Of course, if you could give me an answer, what would your answer be? And still, I’d ask you to not to tell me. I’d like to figure out on my own. You’re a stranger, still, I’ll leave this to you so you can share it with only yourself.
Unless you’re a total jerk and you’d show the whole world some kids’ troubled feelings. However, I sense you’re not like that. That’s why I’m pouring my heart out without having second thoughts about this.
Still, coming back to my troubled feelings, I guess I’ll have to wait, not for that person, but to my own heart and mind to mature enough to acknowledge what’s really happening to me. And I want to enjoy that person’s company even if it’s not in a romantic way. I honestly don’t mind not being in a relationship. Some people tend to depend too much on their ideal lovers, when, in fact, they should love themselves first, then they can freely love without, maybe, getting unnecessarily hurt during that process.
All I can say now that I’m finishing this is that I may like someone, but I don’t know if I like them in a romantic or different way than other. I guess I’m still immature, still thinking about other things that are more important to me than a relationship. But I think being in one with that person wouldn’t be so bad. That person makes me feel like no matter what’s happening, they always bring me a soothing feeling, as if being with them, I can overcome anything.
Love is… a mystery sometimes. Don’t you think so too?
She slowly dropped the paper.Lucy had a sinking feeling at the start of the essay. She didn’t have much experience teaching, but she knew how to recognize a silent angsty adolescent when she saw one. But she gave Ashley Campbell credit for knowing how to mask those feelings. She almost fooled her as a pretty girl with a carefree smile. Almost, but Lucy knew better.Still, what she did in this paper was pretty sneaky, and she liked how it turned out. Even if she didn’t realize it, she was very mature for her age.An A+ was definitely going to be in this pretty, clean, beautiful and secret essay.
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Larry Johnson’s handwriting was a mess, thought Lucy with a grimace. So she put on the glasses she rarely wore and turned the lights on to decipher the weird codes he wrote.The first thing she noticed was that his essay didn’t have a tittle.
I make art. It’s almost something I must do it at least once a day. I’ll go crazy if I don’t. So, the thing is I don’t usually do art on… paper. I don’t write. Most teachers go crazy whenever I write ‘cuz they won’t understand me. I wonder if I make it difficult myself, or it’s something I cannot help.
It would’ve been easier if you had asked us to do some sketches or something, but it’s literature so oh well. A love essay, uh… I honestly don’t have someone special to write to, or, at least, not romantically. There is someone I’d like to write, though…
I used to love them, you know? Now, I’m not so sure. I want to hate them, but I can’t do that either. For mom, I couldn’t… but for that same reason, I can’t forgive either. There’re tons of emotions inside me towards that person that make me feel very distraught. I try to talk about it, but, in the end, I just end up fucking around as nothing happened. I don’t want to worry my friends. I love them too much to make them worry for something so stupid.
I don’t know if this is something with love or not, but I know it’s something important inside me that I need to let out at some point. I hated that person left, why did they have to leave? Weren’t we good enough? Weren’t we loved by them? What did we do wrong? Was it my fault… since day I screwed up, that person… disappeared. I always end up hurting people around me. My best friend cried when I saw his face… my childhood friend almost got expelled because I got into a fight with the prick that hurt her and he blamed her… Do I deserve what happened?
Sometimes, I wonder if me disappearing would fix things. I always bring trouble around whenever I’m near. Always. So, why? They say they love me, but why? For what reason? I didn’t do anything to deserve them, and still… and the person I wanted the most is gone, forever. I’m… I’m not… Not enough.
Whatever, I guess there’s no point in trying useless stuff. But I just don’t know how to let this out. I try with art, it’s my passion and lets me do things I can express without feeling guilty, but… I wonder if that person will see them one day, and they’ll know for sure… all those emotions… feelings… are directed towards them.
I just don’t know. Am I ungrateful for being loved but feeling like I don’t deserve it? Am I a bad person for wanting them back? Am I good ‘cuz I accepted it? Am I good now?
Lucy closed her eyes tightly at those words. She didn’t notice something off with Larry. That boy surely knew how to mask his emotions well with a carefree attitude. He seemed like a good guy, but he was pretty insecure too, even if he could look as someone dangerous, he was actually a good child.She wondered if the person that wrote his letter to was for his father. At least, that impression this letter gave her.
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She couldn’t lie. She was expecting Sal Fisher’s essay. His whole persona inspired mystery and charisma. Unlike what people said about him (teachers and students), the boy was a sweetheart. He was kind to everyone, even to his bullies, and still, he didn’t let them get to him. He always looked so happy with his friends, specially with that Larry guy. They looked like family.And, of course, she had an idea of who he was going to write about.
A matter of time before realizing
Love is a big concept. Too big for me to describe. I guess I’ll describe it the best way I can, and in a way, I can let it out feeling… at ease. Because I love tons of people. I love my dad, he has taken care of me even when he was suffering so much. I’ll always be in debt with him. I love my friends, they’re… everything I asked for and so much more. They’re different, and yet, we complement each other. I think I wouldn’t be able to do it without them. And I love my mom, too. She’s not here anymore, but I still love her. I still feel guilty for… everything. After all, she would be here if she hadn’t given her life for me. Maybe my dad would’ve been happier, I don’t know. But still… all I can do to soothe that pain is to keep loving her, until the day I die. Or maybe even after that.
However… Larry convinced into writing this the way it is now. And if you really are not going to share it with anyone, then, OK. I feel like you’ll keep your promise.
I like someone. I like a girl… maybe. Probably. Or I may be falling in love with her.
What started as a pathetic puppy crush is turning into something… deeper. I feel like a disgusting person just for being so attracted to her the moment I met her. She’s beautiful. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I can assure you I’m not the only one who thinks she’s pretty.
She has a wonderful personality too. She’s patient, she’s caring, she’s lovely. Even though I feel so frustrated at some artistic stuff, although I like it quite a lot, but I’m not good at it, she still helps me. She’s willing to explain what I did wrong, and how I can make it better. I’ll never be good as her. She’s very good at drawing, painting, sculpting… hell, she’s good at everything. No wonder she loves photography so much and she’s good at it.
She can see more than others. And even when she knows she can, she won’t push. There’re days… I just won’t talk about it. There’re stuff I just can’t put into words yet. And she understands, without saying anything, she just… does it. I still don’t understand how she does it. How does she understand? She would just sit with me, without talking about what bothers me, and she’d offer me something delicious to eat, or something to sing, or something to draw, to play in my guitar… and that lump in my throat… would go away, or it would just… burst into wails. She had seen me cry. More times that I’d like to admit. And still, she’s there. Even when I’m at my lowest. When I don’t feel like myself… even when she… sees me.
I don’t wear my mask because I want to. It’s actually a prosthetic. I won’t explain more than that. And I’m very glad my friends accept me even after seeing me the way I look. I know it may be a cliché thing, but I was so afraid of her seeing my face. Maybe it was that stuff of “disappointing your crush”.
But she smiled.
Even seeing me, she smiled.
Maybe that’s why I feel like I’ve fallen in love with her. Because she had accepted me in every way I can’t even imagine. She even likes the parts I don’t like about myself.
She had a vibrant… and yet a soft personality. Maybe my friends would look at me weird for saying that. But I… think there’s more in her than she liked to show. She’s fiery when she wants to be. She doesn’t like our friends being bullied; she turns into a tiger when it comes to those situations. But… through the silence, the darkness, I see something in her eyes… something she hides all the time. I’m still not sure what she hides, but… if only she could trust me enough to tell me… maybe I could assure her I can be there for here just like she has been there for me.
Or maybe I’m being too disrespectful. Maybe I want too much from her. Maybe I’m just an asshole for wanting her only for myself. I hate feeling uneasy when she’s near my best friend. They’re childhood friends. It’s normal. So why do I feel like he’s better of with her than with me? They understand each other better, they have more history than with me.
I know I shouldn’t feel insecure about this. But sometimes… I just can’t help it. Maybe that’s why I feel like a bastard when I want too much. I don’t think I deserve it.
I’m too selfish, and I don’t think Ash- she’d want someone as selfish as me.
… OK, I’ve written too much. I thought I was in love with her before… now that I wrote this… I guess I have to thank you, for making me realize that… I am, in fact, hopelessly in love with her.
… I’m still trying to figure out if that’s a good or bad thing.
Lucy left the papers (there were two attached to a clip) with the name of Sal Fisher written in both of them and narrowed her eyes.She knew that child was something else. And yet, she felt proud of him. As if him admitting his feelings was something only she was able to do.She smiled lovingly at the papers.She wondered if one day Sal Fisher and Ashley Campbell would get together.
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It was ironic, thought Lucy. Todd Morrison’s handwriting was quite… nice and all pretty, but his redaction was pretty “scientific”. She guessed he wasn’t that good at this Literature stuff, maybe he was… a man of science.
Difficult when I can't find the words
Love is a very abstract concept. I understand what you wanted from us from the very beginning. However, I must warn you I’m not very good at it. This may be… short. I apologize if I disappoint you.
My parents love me. I feel treasured, but a little embarrassed. Not because they’re embarrassing, it’s amazing how much they can express that love, and I lack of that… ability. Please, do not get me wrong. I’m in a relationship with a guy, and we’ve been together for a very long time.
Yes, I am gay. And I do not care what people say about it. My parents taught me love can be manifested to anyone, even if it meant someone of the same sex. For me, it was normal liking guys, until I hit puberty and I met people lacking… empathy? Knowledge? Honestly, I’m not sure how they are, but I’m sure how I am.
I love my parents, I don’t show my affection like they do, but I do. I love my friends. I manifest it through knowledge, one of the things I’m best at, that’s how I can amend for not knowing how to express it. They know I love them, but sometimes I think I don’t demonstrate it enough. And I feel bad for that.
As for my boyfriend, I’m sorry for being brutally honest, but everything is… passion. I used to feel bad for having such an extreme passionate relationship, I didn’t want him to think I only used him for sexual needs. However, he knows how I am, he knows I struggle with loving words, but I know how to act and experiment… if you must imagine, sorry for making such an explicit picture for you. But everything in him makes me want to jump his bones him. Don’t worry, though. We not only have sex all the time, we share some scientific stuff (he’s not as invested as I am, but he’s pretty smart and gives me really nice perspectives), we talk about random things we like… I guess I’m still a hormonal teenager.
Again, I’m bad at this stuff. Trying to explain it is… difficult.
Anyway, I hope you can, at least, get me a… decent grade.
Lucy giggled softly at Todd’s essay. It was light, but really deep in some parts. He really struggled how to properly show affection, as if it was harder than math.She noticed those little details he did around his friends, even if he didn't notice. She saw how sometimes Todd helped Ashley with math homework; how he'd exchange jokes with Larry and talk about mystery stuff with Sal. And about the person he liked...She had seen them heading out of school, holding hands. She saw how Todd smirked his way until that curve turned more genuine; affectionate and... in love.Maybe he was bad at lovey-dobey words, but he was good at showing. That was OK for her.
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Lucy wasn’t surprised at finding Travis’ paper full of scribbles, scratched words, almost scratched to tear the paper. Still, she noticed his way of writing was… beautiful. She wondered if he liked writing, or he read poetry.
Makes no sense
Love is trusting in God. Love is being faithful to your partner and families, and love is being kind and patient with the world around you. That’s what I’ve been learning my whole life about how love works. I’m supposed to love father and mother for giving me birth. I’m supposed to love my woman for bearing my children, and loving my family for giving birth to me. Always dedicate to them…
That’s how I’ve been taught most of my life. My father would probably dishonor me if he were to read this, but I think love makes no sense sometimes. It’s such a big concept, a big feeling that the mere word can’t catch its true meaning. It’s too much. Too overwhelming. Too horrible. Too sad. Too awful. Too wonderful. It’s beautiful.
Once, I read a book about how love was only interlaced with intercourse, or having sex, fucking… whatever people would like to call it. If someone loved you… then sex. That would be it? Only carnal purposes? What about the love our mothers feel for us? What about the proud we desire from our fathers? What about what we want from that person?
Love is much of a big concept that I can’t properly explain it. It’s annoying. I’ve tried to search what it meant, what could it mean besides what father taught me. And still, I can’t find an answer. I even searched atheist concepts of love, philosophical ones, different types… I’m left with nothing but more doubts.
I’ve been taught most of my life that we can’t love people from the same sex. We can’t love people who want to be another sex. We can’t love things that aren’t created from God. So why do I feel so blessed when it comes to feel this? I should feel disgusted, angry… but I’m swallowed in shame by just thinking about hi-them.
Would you burn this if I ask you to? Would you not tell anyone as you promised? Would you? I don’t trust you.
But I can’t tolerate what’s been consuming me for so long. If I don’t let out these feelings, then I won’t be able to feel free from them. Right? I want to believe, once I tell you, I’ll be free from this curse. Please.
I never did care for them at the beginning. They were another annoying brat who did stupid stuff and was against school rules. It was annoying. And still, it fascinated me. I liked how they took their time to do things they liked. I was immersed in their way of just… being themselves. There was something in their eyes that they were hiding, and I could see it clearly: hidden pain.
I wondered how it would be like; if they were to show that pain to me. But they didn’t. They showed it to their people; to their friends… To that other person. And loathed that other person.
If I’m confusing you, let’s call this other person X.
X was that person’s pilar. They were everything to them. And I hated how close they were. I hated how much potential of a relationship they could have. After all, X was popular, and I was just the holy brat from the church. Nothing else. That person never paid any mind to me. I never did something to call their attention. And still, I wanted to separate them SO much.
That’s why I helped sharing rumors about this X, awful rumors. I wanted people to know that X wasn’t perfect, that they were repulsive, that X deserved to be hated and stepped on as I felt whenever I saw them together.
But I was proved wrong. X never took revenge, they didn’t even care about the rumors. In fact, that person and X got even closer. And I hated it. I caused that. I hated it so much. I was stupid.
Instead of solving it, or making it right, or apologizing for stupid shit I did… I hated them more. I wanted to hate X and the person I started to look up to. So I started tormenting them, most of the time with the person than with X, who was the cause of everything.
To make things worse. Another one was added to the person’s affectionate list. That person is Y. And they’re even closer. Why can’t I get the same?
Why doesn’t he-they see what I’m worth? Why don’t they realize I can see things others don’t?
It’s unfair. Because maybe, I could do something about it. To make that sadness leave their eyes.
Still
I know, deep down, it’s my fault. My fault and my own cowardice that I can’t say that out loud in front of that person. That’s why I end up venting it out on everyone else.
Someone once mocked me about not having friends, and I punched them.
I was mad because they were right.
They were fucking right.
Because I don’t have anyone.
And when I want someone, I end up pushing them away.
My way of loving people, my feelings… or whatever this is, don’t make sense. I do the opposite when it comes to care for someone. I try to push them away when I try to get close. I try to get away from the ones I’m closest to-
I should be grateful. I should understand this.
Yet I don’t understand why I don’t love enough my father. He’s strict. But he loves me. He hurts me because he loves me. Ha wants me to be better. I want to be better so he accepts m- feels proud of me.
But what I feel towards that person is wrong. Because what I want is evil. So I need to go back to father’s. I need to heal. I need father to heal me. That’s why I need to get away. After all, I keep hurting that person too.
I guess that’s the reason I can’t love properly. Because it’s wrong.
But if it’s wrong… why do I see people committing the mistake I’m about to give in to being so… happy?
Maybe, probably, I’m the only one, being a complete mess, unable to love.
I wonder if it’s because I lack of mother affection.
Or I just don’t make sense.
Love doesn’t make sense.
Nothing makes sense.
Lucy slowly dropped the torn papers and sighed.So, according to what she read, she could interpret this paper in many ways.Still, she thought of it like this:Travis liked a guy. But, it seemed, this guy had a deep bond with someone else (a boy? a girl? She wasn't sure). And Travis loathed that bond to the point of almost ruining them both. She's not sure what he did to the point of no return. And, this guy had someone else who was close to. This guy was pretty popular, it seemed.So, Travis liked this guy. But she had seen that rosary beads he carried around most of the time, so maybe his family was strict, and didn't like people could love others of the same sex, or become someone of the opposite sex... whatever it was, it became to the point Travis felt worthless without his father's aproval.So he decided to give up to this love... even if he still felt it.Her purpose for asking these essays was for the children to let out their inner turmoils. And through love, that was a good way to do it.She beautifully smiled.Someday, she hoped these kids would remember her as the weird teacher that asked them to do a love letter to someone they liked... or to talk about love... even if it was in the simplest ways.