Today, I went to the high school I graduated from to conduct an interview for one of my current education courses.  From the moment I pulled into the parking lot, I could see that that school was not the same as it had been when I had been a student there.

The parking lot was completely refurbished, probably twice the size of the old one.  The building itself was under renovation as well - some of the changed had been completed already, while others were still in the making.  The school looked enormous.

When I was a student, all anyone had to do to get into the building was open the door.  Now, all the doors were locked.  The door on the very left had a button, so I pushed it.  I was allowed in by the secretary, who then mandated that I sign in (name, date, time, destination), and took my keys in exchange for a visitor's pass.  Throughout the entire encounter, she looked at me as though I was from a different state.  I felt so foreign inside my alma mater.   What was this place?

I followed my typical path to find the classroom I had visited so many times in my day, but I was stopped by wall.  Wasn't this supposed to be the entrance to the cafeteria?  It was no a wall, painted white and green, solid, obstructive.  So I altered my route a bit.  On the way upstairs, I found loads of scaffolding outside the window that had once shown a practice field.  Now it was to become more building.  The grass was replaced by the cold metal, and would soon be covered by cheap tile.

When I finally reached the nook at the end of the upstairs hallway that housed the classroom I searched for, I found nothing.  This nook housed nothing; I could see that the classroom itself had been knocked down, deleted.  I saw the remnants of the shape of the room on the floor, not yet completely erased.  Where was I?

I later found that the class had been relocated, and upon finding it at last, I entered to find a new teacher behind the desk.  "Can I help you?" she looked questioningly at me.  Had my thirteen years in that school district made no impression?  What kind of treatment do they give alumni?  I felt as though I had walked into my house and found a new family living in it.  I was unwelcome.




Now I feel unhappy about my choice to become a teacher.  What kind of bureaucracy will I have to sell myself to?  What insignificance will my students be once they've passed all of their classes?

Nothing of my high school seems familiar; but the memories that do linger are the ugliest.  When I hurried out of the building at last (my interview had never happened), I accidentally drove the wrong direction out of the new, overly-precise, marked parking lot.

Well, here it is Tony.  In about an hour, we will officially be old news.

I'm sure no one would understand me better when I say that relationships are exciting in the beginning, and soon that excitement wears off.  Sometimes really soon.  Somewhere around three months, right?

Let's be honest.  We have dated a lot.  Neither of us have had much experience being single, in fact.  Sad truth.  I've dated three other guys, and you've dated about two dozen other girls.  And, if I may be so bold as to say you'd agree, I'd say that we both lucked out here at the age of 18.

 

Eighteen is a very young age for true, committed love if I do say so.  I mean come on, we're in college.  We're supposed to be staying up til three AM half of the time, contracting STDs and not remembering how.  So, uh.. I'm pretty glad I found you, the perfect match to my home-body essence, with an added bonus of being STD-free.

Our similarities don't stop at just being clean and lame, though.  I've had a few best friends throughout my life, but never have I met someone so shockingly similar to me.  The weirdest part is, you're a dude and we make out and stuff.  It's seriously the best of both worlds:  I have a killer boyfriend, perfect match for me.  And I (pretty much) never get sick of him because he (like me) is SO AWESOME that I want to be with him 24/7. Coincidence: I'm also with myself 24/7 - bewildering.



I can't express how pleased I am to have met someone so perfect for me.  And that's really the only way to say it.  For now at least.  I'll try to think of a more creative, less cliche way to express that thought.  But honestly, we complement one another with our lack of party mode, love for cuddling, and most importantly, unbelievable magnitude of weirdness.

But also, as you told Corey, we "balance" each other out.  HA, what crap.  I bring you out of your comfort zone and get you to try new things: locks of love, jumping into a practically frozen lake (clothed), and BEACH PARTY (you may not remember all of it, but what you do remember I'm sure was a great time!!).  And of course, you make me super lazy (let's watch a movie....).  But really, it is true.  I mean, you're terrified of spiders, and bugs creep the shit out of me.  Perfect match!! Plus, I can eat all the food that you're so picky about, and you can eat whatever regular food I can't fit into my stomach anymore!

I've never felt so comfortable with anyone in the world.  Not my mother, my bro, or any friend I've ever had.  I have no insecurities with you (this is 99% true).  I mean I can pee in front of you, seriously?  Well, so far we've talked about the number two, and PLEASE let's stop there.  I'd rather run out of "firsts" than share a dump. Uhhh.



Anthony Edward Hamorsky, I am so in love with you.  Today, I totally creeped on your Facebook and looked through EVERY picture you've been tagged in ever... and in each picture I just smiled at how wonderful of a man you are.  You really have touched me.  I have never felt so understanding and proud and endearing and smitten with anything or anyone before.  In each picture, I could sense the essence of you that I love so dearly.  You've told me before that you've only truly been yourself around me, and this almost makes me feel sorry for everyone else because you are that awesome of a guy.  But then I don't feel bad because, hey, I want you all for myself, I'm not gonna lie.

I know that sometimes I get carried away with our future: living together, *a proposal*, becoming a Hamorsky, bearing a blue-eyed child... all the way to whether cancer or dementia would be a worse death (how do you deal with me?!) but I want you to know that no matter what happens, I could not be happier with the present.  I am incredibly in love with the most wonderful man on the planet, and I could not ask for more.  I may complain a lot, but I'm the luckiest woman in the world.



I'll love you forever, Tony.  Thank you for the best nine months I could ever ask for.  I'm all yours forever

Here's my issue with You.  If You want everyone to love and follow and believe in You, why are You so mysterious?  I know that we're supposed to have faith, and faith is defined as "belief that is not based on proof," but how can I be expected to depend so wholly on something that cannot be proven?  I live my life based on evidence.  Even such as subjective thing as love, though, has proof.  I feel it.  That is enough proof for me.  I feel it strongly; every time I think of love, it is as though my brain and my heart and my stomach have been suddenly jolted.  That is a strong feeling.  Why can't I feel You?  Even that could be proof.

But why, I need to know, can't You give me a sign?  I've heard this line in the movies, but I don't mean a flash of light or a sudden revelation.  What is wrong with undeniable evidence?  A true miracle, like those that Your son performed?  Not magic, of course, no tricks.  A true miracle.  I need something like that.  I wish I had such faith, but I am the person who needs to know first, to be able to believe.

I've been feeling down.  I've been feeling defeated, weak, unfocused.  Is this a sign?  How can it be?  I may need your help, but I need it more directly.  Please don't force negative feelings upon me to prove a point.  Is that what You're doing?  If You're there, I need you more than ever.  I've been having such a difficult time here.  But I can't just turn to You on a whim; that wouldn't be fair to either of us.  I need to know.

Please.