Part I:

By The Lakeside

Every day, I see her sitting in the same place. She sits by the lake, in a world of her own, gazing at the dark, mucky water piling waves upon its rocky shore. Occasionally, she’ll twirl a straggly strand of her auburn hair around her index finger, but other than that, she makes no movement.

I can see the piercing, silvery blue color of her eyes staring intensely at the water, as if it were showing her something of grave importance. Her thinly arched, dark eyebrows are furrowed in a type of concentration. I can tell that something is bothering her, I clearly see that she is in pain.

I wish I could just sprint up to her and lock her into the warmth of my arms, and make whatever is on her mind disappear. I wish I could make her pain vanish and replace it with my deep love for her.

But, I can never discover that courage I am supposed to possess and say something to her.

Heavens, I can’t even walk up to her!

So, instead, I walk a few feet away from where I was standing and plop down next to a tree, resting my back along its rigid, bumpy bark.

I sigh, sadly and keep my gaze on the troubled angel by the lakeside. She seems so close to me, yet so far away.

I wonder if she is in as much pain as me. Yet, I don’t believe that anyone can be in as much pain as I.
It hurts so, unbelievably, much to know that someone you have fallen for will never feel the same way. It brings so much anguish to know that the one you love shall never crave you as you do them.

I’ve kept my feelings hidden in far down within the depths of my very soul: my yearning, my urges, and my love.

Sometimes I question myself as to why I do this. Why do I keep them away from her, instead of sharing them?

Well, I do this because I know the truth. I know for a fact that her heart will never swell with the same overwhelming and undying love that mine does for her.
I shake my head mercilessly and blink back the steaming, hot tears that threaten to fall from my eyes. I refuse to cry about this anymore. Crying is useless.

I look back at her. Her face remains with the same look of pain. I wonder if my own face reflects hers. Did I adopt the same pain stricken expression over these years?

It’s not like it matters, though. I could care less about what I look like.

But, however, I care what she looks like. I care, knowing that she looks so hopeless.

Why can’t I just go save her? Why can’t I build up the bravery to go and speak with her? Why can’t I take away the pain?

Why can’t I make her happy? The only thing that does matter is her happiness.

Anyway...

THIS WILL HAVE 2 MORE CHAPTERS! Which I can post today if you wish. I have them written already.

Review, please!