The Notion of You and Me

The Idea of You

Have you ever had that moment when you thought of something to write then once you've started writing, the words just come out as though you have opened the faucet and the water just began to flow freely?

It wasn't exactly the same words uttered by my Math teacher before when I went to another private school in California; it was Montrose Academy, indeed a good school. However, he had told us the same thought although he referred it to a Mathematical problem that whenever he saw one it was as though the solution to its problem solved itself without him thinking much about it. Thus, he called it Mathematical Intuition; it was for the reason that he had encountered a lot of Mathematical problem that he wouldn't have trouble answering for a problem akin to the ones he had solved before. It wasn't out of boasting as he said that it was out of love for Mathematics.

I was sophomore back then. Admittedly, I wasn't really good in math however, the term, Mathematical Intuition, made me think of the exact feeling I have in Literature. It was probably the enthusiasm for writing that inspires me to write. Back then, my father had always brought story books, for me to read, whenever he came home from work. He was a chief executive officer of the Wright Corp., quite a busy man, I might add. Although his schedule was frequently hectic, he never failed to fulfill his job as a father in our home. Once, had he told me that someday I'm going to write my own story and added that he should be the first to read it.

"What if I couldn't make one?" I asked.

Dad had already finished the last chapter of my favorite book, The Secret Garden, when he told me all about it. In the midst of the dusk and the light of the lamp, I'd managed myself not to close my eyes in the depths of my sleepiness for the notion of writing seemed to thrill my eight-year-old self.

Offering me an unfeigned smile, he then said, "If you believe in yourself, you could; and I believe that you could. You just have to try and see it for yourself."

I only nodded in response.

I was downright exhilarated by my father's idea that the once whimsical notion of being able to write original short stories and even poems (that I, in actuality, jest about before) had actually came into reality and with just the first word of my first poem written, I knew I was in love. Though I never thought I could make it, but as the words uttered by my father echoed in my mind, I thought otherwise that I could. Although it was rather mawkish in my opinion, the words of encouragement, I mean; but effective.

From the very moment of my sophomore year in our Math class, I already had a description of a feeling I have whenever I write, it was something like an intuition. It was perhaps the enthusiasm that urged me to write more; it was really out of love for Literature, I guess.

A year had already passed when I felt myself a bit drowned in an ocean of nostalgia to reminisce a few indelible memories that I have. Perhaps, it was because my parents had decided to transfer me to another private school that made me, well, exaggerating perhaps. I cannot actually find a reasonable explanation why for I found it a bit unnecessary to transfer when I only have a year left for high school.

I shook my head in disbelief.

I had just listened to a song of mine when an idea came to my mind. It inspired me to write a poem so I picked up my spiral notebook and a pen. Sitting on the chair by my study table, I began to write. I thought of the persona of the song to be very determined to wait for the girl to hear her sweet yes. Perhaps if there was still a gentleman like the persona on the song then I wouldn't think otherwise; though I doubted so.

But then an idea came to my mind, something contradicting. I thought what if the man had finally given up and left the lady just as she felt something towards him? What would the lady feel and think about it?