The Notion of You and Me

Wright You Are So Freaking Right!

I had always been the type of person who worried too much about an occurrence that turned into a debacle because of something that I may had done which caused its negative aftermath. Sure, I shouldn't think much about it; but there were just times when you couldn't help but think about it nonetheless. That itself led to the sole reason why I thought of that Saturday occurrence where he came out of the blue and question me with my non-existent audacity. But, truthfully, it wasn't entirely all about that. It was the bewilderment he caused when he clearly pretended not to know me. It wasn't that much of a big deal at all. But there was this part of me that thought of it otherwise.

I was staring by the window of Mrs. Smith's English class. Although, I tried my best to catch up on her discussion probably about the life of the girl named Maureen on this short story she made us read. Everyone was already finished reading with the story including me and the discussion afterwards was quite tedious. I wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible yet the time seemed to be in a kind of slow-motion. I glanced at my classmates. There were two boys secretly talking to each other just one seat across from mine; there was this one girl who was a second seat away from me, staring at this boy from the second row; that oblivious boy whom the girl had been staring at was busy with writing his notes. Everything seemed to be practically in a slow-motion.

I let out a sigh.

All it took for the class to end was just a few more minutes, Vionna; just a few more minutes.

I only set my gaze on my copy of that day's short story as though it was the best thing I'd ever seen. I wasn't actually reading it again. But then again, I didn't have any choice.

Suddenly, I heard someone cleared his throat. I looked up and it was him. He sat on a chair next to me.

"Mrs. Smith told us to write an essay about it," he said. "And since Mrs. Smith told us that we have to write an essay together . . .''

I looked at him. Then, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head and added, "Well, I guess, we really have to do it together. Mrs. Smith is particularly strict about anything she says that it should be implemented." He smiled. "Believe me, from what I've experienced; we really don't want to upset her."

His smile made my cheeks burn and my pulse quicken. Without thinking, a small smile lifted up the corners of my mouth. We were silent for a little while until I cleared my throat. "Okay, then we should write now, then."

"Yup," he replied, "we really should."

We started writing. Though we agreed that first, we had to write separately. Next, we exchanged the ones we had written to each other and read it. After that, we discussed a bit of the ones we had written.

"Her life was like all the paintings created in the depths of her agony. Yes, she focused more of the neutral colors. But she didn't actually look at the entire painting, her life in retrospect; because there were also bright colors which made them become more vibrant because of those neutral colors. Her life was colorful. Yet, she didn't take notice of it," he read from my paper. He looked at me and smiled. "That's actually great. We should add this."

I smiled. "You think so?"

He nodded. "I think so. Just like life, one should not focus more on the negative side, you know? Like, there are pros and cons. In every action that we take consists of two possible outcomes: the negative and positive. Those outcomes may be inevitable, but we have to do is keep moving forward and avoid dwelling on the negativity."

"True," I remarked, smiling. "Meet the Robinsons, eh?"

He smiled. "Best animated film I've ever seen."