Breaking the spell.

(Before I frighten the world with a story that still has me in stitches, I’d like to thank you for your recent and continual prayers for my family. Charley is improving by leaps and bounds every day.)

Have you ever internally struggled with a passion, temptation or obsession? And then upon confessing or proclaiming it, that obsession lost its grip on you? 

When I was in middle school, I had a crush to end all crushes. There was this boy, Israel, whom I thought the Lord had created to perfection. Oh, man, was I ever weak over this guy. He was a couple of years older than me and pretty much had no idea that I existed. At least, if he did, I sure couldn’t tell.  But I kept careful watch just in case.  We went to the same church, so I typically got to stalk him at least twice a week.  If he looked at me, behind me, around me or through me, I’d go home and document it.

 Dear Israel,

 I think you looked at me tonight. You are so beautiful.

 Love, peace and tomatoes,

 Suzy*

Okay. I can’t remember exactly how the letters would go, but they must have been something along those lines. Like a psychopath, I’d get out all of my pent up hormones and angst by writing letters to Israel, letters which I never sent, but carefully tucked away in my bedroom.

Until one day…

Yeah, I just couldn’t take it anymore. And being a combination of fairly dramatic and overly sensitive, I decided that whether Israel felt the same for me or not, I just couldn’t keep this secret locked up for one more second.

So I handed him ALL of my letters. Every. Last. One.

He could have been flattered, but I think upon reading them he was probably more alarmed. Thinking back, I cannot stop laughing to myself at how weird it must have been to be in Israel’s shoes. Can you IMAGINE someone handing you a stack of semi-love letters… and you’ve never really spoken to them ever?! And if you had spoken to them, every exchange was carefully recorded IN one of the letters?!  Ha ha ha…  

Oh gosh.

Well, you won’t believe this, but the very next morning, the spell was broken. Once I surrendered my letters, my crush for Israel vanished like a vapor in the wind. All that I was left with was the horror that for all Israel knew, I’d be pining over him for all eternity. Weirder than receiving a stack of letters that professed a girl’s undying love would be – one week later – to receive a note saying, “Never mind.”

So I decided to let it go. The way that I saw it was that I had suffered enough. And if being near me now made Israel uncomfortable, eh, so what? I figured that he deserved to get knots in his stomach for once. I wanted him to feel some paranoia. So I let him go on thinking that I liked him for a year or two. I can’t decide if that was more hysterical or mean. But I’m still laughing, so I’m gonna go with hysterical. 

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