The Most Epic Love Story Ever

The pressure to find “The One” was immense,

Especially with it being my freshman year of high school and all.


Everyone was beginning to come into their own,

To find that special something that occupied their afternoons,


And then there was yours truly.


Mom pestered me to get out there,

“It’ll prepare you for the college experience,” she said,

“You’ll meet new people,” she said, 


“You’ll fall in love,” she said.


And so that’s how I found myself in a crowded classroom on a Wednesday afternoon,

With an assortment of sorry miscreants who were all trying to find a good time.


You had the Overachievers,

Eager to fill their schedules to the max with new love interests,

Thinking that they were the big dogs on campus because they did everything and anything no matter what it was,

As long as it lacked standards and made them look impressive.


Then you had the Desperates,

The ones who weren’t stylish enough, 

Artistic enough, 

Charismatic enough,

Flexible enough.

The ones eager to be committed to at least one good thing,

Something to document that their high school existence wasn’t full of a complete lack of effort and preparation.   


And then there was me.


Not really expecting anything out of this experience,

It was just an attempt to find something that would keep me occupied from time to time,

Something that I was sure would be another thing I’d be just average at,

I didn’t expect it to be a long term thing. 


A tall lady walked in,

Looking as though she had come straight out of a fairytale,

She preached promises of finding “The One,”

Saying that she was certain that we’d all come to the right place to find our Happily Ever After.


The Overachievers sat back, certain that this would be yet another feat to add to their already long list of feats they’d conquered,

The Desperates were hopeless romantics who “oo-ed” and “ahe-ed,” sure, as they were with everything they had already tried, that they’d finally get this one right.


And then there was I, simply skeptical.


The bachelors and bachelorettes were brought in,

And we each were given a short time to flirt with every type you could imagine.

Mr. W.S. Sonnet, or “The Bard, if you please,” was quite sophisticated,

Giving me 14 compliments of everything he thought I wanted to hear,

Wrapping it all up in what he thought to be the most romantic rhyme of all time.

Everything he said seemed more glorified than sincere, and he was just much too pretentious for my taste.


Hai Ku was a strange character,

A nervous little man of few words,

Yammering only on about having to be at dinner by 5, in bed by 7, and up by 5 the next morning.

Lacking depth,

He was much too particular, and much too structured for my liking.


But then I met him….


Free V. Erse.


Free was unlike anything I had ever seen.


He always lends an ear,

Listening to my every thought,

Absorbing each and every thing I have to say about any topic.


He has no structure,

No limits,

For he is open-minded.

Nothing phases him.


He allows me to open up to him with every kind of emotion I'm experiencing,






Free isn't afraid of feelings,

And consoles me when I'm at my most vulnerable.



On our first date, 

I served him word salad.


Nothing I said made sense to him,

Yet he was able to assemble my ideas to create something that made everything seem so clear to me.


We're so in sync,

And it feels as though he's the only one who truly understands how I'm feeling,

The only one who can can take my jumbled thoughts and ideas and feelings and convey them in a way that allows everyone to know just how I'm feeling.


Free has helped me to understand myself a just a little bit more,

For because of him,

My feelings are not so scary and so unclear anymore.


He's a true word wizard,

Casting spelling-spells on my fragile heart,

Never ceasing to thrill me.


He loves to play,

On words.


On our second date we went fishing,

And he baited me,

Throwing me lines,

Telling me I was such a catch,


And I told him was just fishing for me to compliment him back.


Nothing’s too cliche, 

Too cheesy for my love.


He’s the lyrics to my music,

Everything he does is all metafor me,


He's as bright and as warm as the sun,

And never ceases to make me simile.


He is my sweet escape,

My one true love.


And every time my pencil kisses paper,

He and I create something truly magical.

Every time, sparks never cease to fly between us, and thrill me deeply.

And each time we create something new, it feels the first time I ever wrote.


So I encourage you to find that part of literature that makes you weak in the knees, and make it apart of you.


Fall in love,

And find your sweet escape like I did.


Because this is the epic ballad of how I fell truly, deeply, madly in love with poetry,

And it has changed my life forever.

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