I pick up my brown sling bag, hang it carelessly upon my left shoulder, and hasten my pace to walk out of the room. The topic of love confuses me and I do not wish to spend another second thinking about it. Pssh. I draw a conclusion that love is just a scientific reaction as a result of metabolism. So why does everyone think love is so magical? There is nothing magical about chemical changes in the body. I snort and strides confidently over to Ms. Jessica McBlonde’s classroom.
That is, of course, until I accidentally spot a beautiful someone amongst the bustling crowd. My heart feels like it is skipping over a jump rope at a rate of a hundred times per minute. My legs abruptly freeze to the ground and I am not able to lift it up. My hands are starting to get clammy just by looking at her, even though I am 10 meters away from her. Yes, to make it clear, it is a “she”. And boy, she definitely stands out from any other girls I’ve ever met. As we walk past each other, I discreetly breathe in the subtle, sweet, floral scent that lingers at wherever she passes by and beam over the triumph of having that wonderful opportunity. Realizing how idiotic my beam must look like, I quickly glance around to see if anybody has notice what I did. A couple of people return my panicky stare, but I don’t think they saw me whiffing and beaming ridiculously at that girl. Or did they? Oh man, this is beyond embarrassing. I decide to rush even faster toward my English classroom, but it’s kind of hard to do when 400 hundred other people are trying to reach their class destinations as well through the narrow staircase.
I finally arrive at my classroom, where it supposedly acts as my love-free haven. Plopping myself on a chair next to where my friends are sitting, I feel safe and relieved. However, as Ms. McBlonde starts off the class, my mind is led back to the topic of love and “her”. I evaluate the reactions that took place when she was around me. Is that what they call “love”? Perhaps it’s not love, but it’s definitely an infatuation. Even if the feelings are just products of a biochemical and metabolic reaction, why did it make me feel so… weird? I can hardly believe myself. Five minutes ago I was scoffing at the thought of love. Now, am I actually considering the thought of loving someone? I, Kwan McDonny, sadly admit that I am a moronic hypocrite.
Apparently Ms. McBlonde notices that I am not focusing in class as I am reflecting this enigmatic thought over my head. She says, “OK. Seems to me like not everyone is giving their full attention to what I’m saying. Fine by me, considering that I have the power to give you guys low grades and detention. Right Kwan?” My thought burst, sending me back to the reality of English class. “Right,” I muttered. First Mr. Ancient, now Ms. McBlonde. Darn it. Why am I always busted at such inconvenient times? I try to put the thought of love and “her” away from my mind so that I may concentrate on The Great Gatsby.
…But I still can’t take my mind off “her”.
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