Confessions of The Black Lover Boy: Auren

I had the hardest time admitting that I loved you. Even to myself. Everything about you was just amazing. You were my mom and dad’s friend’s daughter. Perfect. I could play with you all the time. I remember playing Aladdin on Super Nintendo with our parent’s arguing about finance rumbling in the next room. You would show me exactly how to play the game as well as you could. My parent’s wouldn’t let me have a game system yet, but you took your time and helped me do all the tricks you could do. We would sit there for hours, talking about our dreams, games, our parents, school. I enjoyed this so much. Sometimes I felt you were too perfect to be true. I guess that’s why I never decided to admit it to myself. I feel like years went by and they felt like weeks. I felt I understood the ease of conversation when talking to someone beautiful. You were so easy to look at. Your hair was never fully done, but just taken care of enough. You would wear it in two cornrows that seemed to just bring my eyes to your face. I would speak to you sometimes and allow my mind to go on auto pilot. Allowing whatever answers that came to me, flow freely from me. All the while, in my mind, I am fawning over your every detail. Your skin was just a little darker than mine. Some how I loved that, all though I was still learning to love my skin. Your eyes always stared back at me with care. I didn’t understand why, but I felt so comfortable in your sight. I remember having a huge gap in the time I saw you. Maybe it was a family vacation. Maybe you moved. But I remember seeing you again and being really proud of how much I had grown. I saw you and you didn’t see me. I thought to call out to you but I couldn’t. I noticed something about you that made me love you more but startled me at the same time. I had no idea where you went, or what you did, but the same polo shirt that you used to always wear wasn’t fitting how it used to. It was almost as if God stuffed your shirt with more of you and for some reason my body was terrified to talk to you. I was able to spend years speaking to you and staring in your eyes. Now I feel this distraction is something I can’t get over. This moment made me realize that you were not my age. No other girl in my class had what you had. I know some pretty teachers had what you had. All of a sudden, I saw you more as a teacher than a girl who could love me back. This was heartbreaking. There was a fog over my eyes before and I think it was love. After the fog lifted, I realized you were my babysitter. Not with pay or anything like that, but you were that older child that was told to look after the younger child when parents go do parent things. You did that. You did it really well.

I wish I were able to talk to you when I saw you. I wish I was able to be confident enough in myself and my growth to be able to love you in your growing. If only I could have been your age. I love you.