Love a Mystery

Dear Readers,

This is an essay I wrote for my college English class. As it turns out, it's a really good short story! What I was going for this time was describing something, something that we humans often try to describe; it's called love.

Though we can name love and talk about love, no one quite has an answer on what love is yet, and neither do I. Actually, the only thing that I knew for sure was love's uncertainty. One never knows what to look for or how to react when it arrives. Love is a mystery, truly.

I am Kaeden Nelson, a young adult looking for love, and I thought I'd share this story with you! I hope you appreciate it! Perhaps it can teach you a thing or two about love. Please enjoy Love a Mystery!

-Kaeden Nelson

Love a Mystery

By: Kaeden Nelson

My first love, she could never seem to make her mind up on anything. Was I intrigued by her appearance and her personality, or was I just so curious to know more about her? She remains unknown, a mystery, one of many things I will never understand. I still love her, even though I can’t seem to answer why? That, among many things, confused me and still confuses me today.

One of the many things about her that confused me was her style of dress. She was a mystery, from her head to her toes; she wore nothing that matched. She had glossy, moist hair that was rarely combed. Her hair was split along the middle. The right side of her hair was blonde with red highlights, and the left side was brown with blue highlights. She often wore things like Sketchers socks, Jordans’ shoes, Nike shorts, Adidas hoodies, yellow Ray-Ban glasses and, to complete the set, a baseball cap with no logo.

Even her scent contradicted itself. Her perfume smelled quite pleasant, like fresh peaches; however, sometimes, she would forget to wear deodorant. Her fashions communicated many messages.

On the topic of communication, her English combined an African accent with a Russian accent. Her accent was a worm in a desert. “How...” I would often ponder "...did that get there?"

When she was happy, her voice was a needle, violent and lethal, but when she was angry, her voice was soothing, something people could fall asleep to. When she was happy, she was intimidating, and when she was unhappy, she was timid. It was striking and unexpected, but pleasant, like a dollar in the street. Often when people find dollars in the street, however, they think a trick is being played on them.

Seeing her for the first time, I thought a trick was being played on me.

I was quick to judge her appearance.

“Your outfit looks confused; stop,” I said as I laughed. Looking back, I feel terrible for the comment and for the laugh.

“I don’t look that bad,” she responded angrily.

I needed to lighten the mood, so I rephrased it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. I was blown away; it’s a lot to look at,” I said, waiting for approval.

“Thanks, you jerk!” she replied blushing and lowering her eyebrows.

After that, I laughed, and she laughed. Next, I witnessed the most beautiful, heart-warming smile of my life. Her cheeks glowed pink, and she was just looking at me. I could feel she was happy, genuinely happy. She smiled; her teeth came slightly out, and her cheeks matched the color of her lips, and before I knew it, I was in love. She was, too; she just needed a way to express it clearly.

In time, she did express herself more clearly, and giving gifts was one way of doing so. The first week, I went to her parents' house where she baked me a cake. The cake was a fudge cake dripping in warm fudge that nearly covered my hand. The warmth was like hot chocolate on Christmas: welcoming, and convenient. I cut a slice out, and more fudge oozed out from the center, slowly covering the plate in its holiday-like warmth. I took a bite, and the cake was soft, warm, like her smile earlier. I finished the entire slice, and by the time I was done, the whole house smelled of fudge and glaze. The warm sweetness of that cake was her soul. She gave me that soul, and I gave her my soul.

That day, she gave me her soul, but soon I destroyed it. I dated another, and she left me forever. Now, my soul will never return to me; my soul is still with her. I still want to be with her because my soul is gone without her, but I still can’t say why. I guess love’s just complicated, a mystery. People can get hooked but just as quickly can get left, feeling empty, longing for answers, and deprived of happiness. Whatever the mystery in life, solve it; it's easier than reclaiming a soul. Attempting to solve another mystery may seem fun, but it can result in loss: the loss of two souls... forever.