The Things That I Gave You

A short story by Ronald Habana Jr.

I remember that smile, that sweet smile that captivated my eyes. It brought about a hundred sparks of diamonds that almost blinded my sight. I swear to God I saw not a girl but an angel. Her pink cheeks with little freckles, her smoldering big blue eyes, her shiny teeth and button nose; how endearing, how pleasant.

But Rose, my love, I sent you flowers, you did not glance. I wrote you letters, you didn't respond. I befriended your friends, you showed not one care. Those boxes of chocolates that almost starved me to death just so that I could buy for you didn't seem to please your lovely face. I dedicated a song for you, but your ears were closed. I made a fool out of myself just to make you laugh, but the smile that I once saw did not appear in your face I considered angelic. The gifts that I gave you in every occasions didn't even please you. I made poems, stories, songs for you, I juiced my brain just to come up with a creative yet original composition dedicated only for you but you did not spear a time to read all of them.

I thought you were a robot, such lifeless being; no emotions, no fantasies, no love. I gave in. I let go. I gave up on you. Took the time to be miserable. Cried myself to sleep. Locked up in my room. I despised you. I never should have loved you. Such sparks faded away, no chills, not a thing at every glance to your devilish face with your ugly teeth, and your ugly skin. Looking in your eyes made me sick. I hated you Rose.

And now that I finally moved on as I wasted years pleasing you and making myself belief that even for a nick of time you'll get to know me and like me, love me back, I found another. Daisy made me feel that I'm loved, I'm being cared and that I'm special. It's like destiny meeting Daisy as I gave up on a Rose. But then I found out that you never dated anyone, never seen one after my long desperation for you. Someone told me you were waiting for someone else. Someone from the past. Who this might be? The boy must be lucky. Though sometimes I wish I was that one. At times of doubt whenever Daisy really love me, the thought of having Rose in my life simply brings back the chills. I must admit, Rose, my first love will never be a daisy.