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Jasmine The Most Beautiful Flower
Jeremy M. Trimble
I have always thought jasmine is the most beautiful flower and over time, my tastes have remained the same. I had first seen this girl, Jasmine, in an English class I'd taken a year before, but she never really stuck out. She was like that. Her eyes, her appearance, her voice and her mannerisms were all like that. Unless you looked really closely, it was difficult to notice her. She had the quiet beauty of a breeze dancing along unnoticed and unhampered.
While she was quiet and peaceful, I did notice her later, and then she became an obsession. Of course I never spoke to her, I didn't really know her, but Oh God how I wanted to.
Jasmine's visage will always be burned into my mind. She had long, light brown hair that stretched to the mid section of her back. She wasn't unusually tall or short. Her eyes were soft, like the rest of her. Jasmine's voice was melodic and gentle. Everything about her seemed to be melodic. Her movements were fluid and unobtrusive. Once she had taken root in my mind I felt a little bit of anguish.
It was strange, a smile would spread across my face whenever I thought of her, and yet I knew, somewhere in the back of my consciousness, the chances were that something would go wrong. I knew it. I could feel it, just as I always did. Perhaps I would get the "let's just be friends" line or something akin to it, but something would go wrong. Call me a pessimist.
So, I put those thoughts away. I fought them back like angry demons that wanted to consume my joy and my pleasure at thinking of her. Sometimes I could lock the creatures of darkness, doubt and despair somewhere deep inside me, but they would return, rushing toward me, piercing my defenses and sending waves of doubt throughout my soul.
There were so many reasons for her not to say yes, when and if I asked her out. Perhaps she had a boyfriend, which was much more likely, and that thought was depressing. More painfully, she probably just wouldn't like me. I talk loudly, but rarely do I truly say anything. She wouldn't know me by hearing my arrogant comments or answers any more than I could know her as I craved to understand her.
Sometimes I would just stare off into the vastness of space wherever I was, and think about her. I'd wonder about what she liked, what kinds of movies she enjoyed, what books she liked to read. At times I would imagine her middle name, or her birthday. Maybe it was stupid, I probably should have just spoken with her and gotten to know her that way, but I didn't.
The year after I first met her in my old English class I'd made up my mind to ask her out. It seemed to me that a movie would be the best option. Granted we wouldn't be able to speak or get to know each other, but I could show her that I wasn't really what I can often appear to be: arrogant, calloused, self-absorbed, or simply cold.
I decided to ask her when she came out of her English class. My friend had
the same class as Jasmine and I would often meet him there. I noticed Jasmine
usually came out of the class alone.
"Hey," I called to my friend James as he came out of the class, "I need to take care of something, so can I catch up with you later?"
He shrugged, "Sure." With speed and efficiency he marched off.
A few heartbeats later, Jasmine came out of the class. Images of my shaking and sweaty hands along with the rapid breaths and faster heartbeats filling my chest are still fresh. There are very few things I have ever been afraid of, but asking Jasmine out was definitely at the top of the terrifying chart.
Seeing her stroll towards me at lunch time made me swallow hard as I moved closer towards her. Each step was a tiny, hard fought war. I tried to calm myself. Neither staring contests with instructors nor tests had ever caused such fear, the fear of rejection was intense. This one time filled me with absolute fear and apprehension.
Finally the tiny wars were done and I was only a foot or two away from her. I fought back the fear. Doubt took fear's place. Appearing in my mind were thoughts of: she'll never say yes to any date you'd ever ask her to, don't bother, give up, you'll fail... They beat at my resolve. For the briefest of moments, even faster than a beat of my heart, I wondered if I'd give up.
The answer came easily when I looked at her. Just seeing her gave me strength and confidence. The doubt was beaten back by a blundering wave of hope.
I did the bravest thing I can ever remember. "Jasmine, are you busy Friday?"
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