Recollections of an Old Soul

Chapter 1: Stacy Freedman

What is life? There are so many answers in the world but I do not know which one is correct.

Life could be a box of chocolates that God is binging on his cheat day. Life could be a bicycle that, despite having training wheels, we keep falling off of. Life could be a camera that can only produce pictures with negatives in a dark room.

Whatever life was, I didn't know. To me, life was Stacy Freedman.

I was in love with Stacy-or so I thought. I had never really been in love, I just knew what I read in those weird Sparks romance novels. Therefore, I was convinced that I was in love with Stacy Freedman.

There was nothing special about Stacy. She was a brown haired, brown eyed girl in a brown cared, brown guyed world. Regardless, I was infatuated.

Everyone is a slut for something. Some people are a slut for anime or books or even Doritos. Stacy? She was a slut for guys.

She was always depositing one guy just to withdrawal another. I have no clue, looking back, why I chose her, being the nerd I am. I guess she was an adventure I hadn't been on. Maybe I was a slut for sluts.

I was that weirdo that was incredibly smarter than everyone else, or at least that's what everyone made it seem like, and the most daring thing I had ever done was closing a book without saving my page. Stacy was a complete 180° of who I was. I was curious.

She was my neighbor, living right next door. I could always hear her moans and groans from my bedroom and at first it was disturbing. Though, after a few years, I was used to it.

I never became lovers or even friends with her but she stuck to my mind because she was that adult novel that I secretly read in the depths of my mind. That story you enjoy with a guilty conscience yet you don't regret it. She was just that.

Hmm...

Stacy Freedman.