Jekyll and Hyde - Second Response

Author’s Note: "He went to call indeed; but he was perhaps relieved to be denied admittance; perhaps, in his heart, he preferred to speak with Poole upon the doorstep and surrounded by the air and sounds of the open city, rather than to be admitted into that house of voluntary bondage, and to sit and speak with its inscrutable recluse." After reading this passage, I realized how Mr. Utterson persued the mystery out of curiosity, but was scared of what he would find. He appears to me, to be living in the mystery of another’s life. With so many signs that he shouldn’t be involved and with so much fear, it hardly seems worth it for him to spend so much of his time on this issue. I felt as if I could relate to Mr. Utterson. I used my locker as symbolism as Robert Louis Stevenson uses doors to represent how shut out Mr. Utterson feels and the feeling of being trapped.

Slammed shut, my locker door pushes my oversized backpack and ripped folders deep inside the throat of my locker. Glancing in his direction, I become flooded in frustration knowing that after all this time; I’m still the one having to initiate conversation. The only thing allowing me to continue to act on this crush being the rumors from his friends that he wants me back, I make my way over. Through stubbornness and a touch of hope, I neglect all the ignoring he’s given me. Perhaps, though, it’s his very vibe of “play hard to get” that keeps me from giving up. Before I reach him, however, I’m blocked by the conversation of a close friend of mine. While with anyone else, I would be annoyed by the obstacle, with this particular friend, I embrace this banter. Speaking to this specific boy brings ease and subconsciously, I’m relieved to have missed out on the forced, awkward conversation that would have happened between me and the boy a few lockers down. The other boy is forgotten in a moment, and I am absorbed in the smile of the boy in front of me. His warm eyes grant me an unreasonable familiarity. Strangely enough, I hardly know him; I’ve only been talking to him for a couple of weeks now. Before running off to my next class, he finishes with a playful, clever tease that flatters me.
Drifting off in next hour’s class, instead of playing Bubble Shooter or going on Tumblr like the rest of the students, I catch myself ruminated in the silly remarks by the boy who has been blocking the path between me and the boy I’ve been stuck on. While to the boy who I’m supposedly “with” I feel like an unobtrusive piece of chopped liver, coming and going as he pleases, I feel like I’m this other boy’s main focus. His eyes are warm and they don’t just look at me, they look in me; I matter to him. And while his intense gaze is intoxicating, nothing’s quite brighter than when they squint because of one of his quiet laughs; from where beneath his lips, a smile breaks free, resulting in a smile of my own to escape. With him, I find comfort in knowing there’s no such thing as judging, simply acceptance of any dorky statement I happen to spit out. Beneath his genius and sweet manner, there’s an edge. A rebel side that lets loose, that lets his crazy, carefree character come to life.
Suddenly woken from my daydream, I’m brought back to reality where I’m not allowed to think of him in that way. I’m supposed to be with the other boy, aren’t I? I’ve spent the past months waiting to be where I am now with this other boy, and yet here I sit, disappointed and unsatisfied. Unfulfilled with the goal I finally reached because, perhaps, I was more in love with the idea of being with this boy than I actually was in love with him. What made me so interested in him was the mystery behind what I couldn’t have. But while he neglected me, I neglected the person that deserved my attention the most. Blinded, I didn’t take the time to notice that what I was looking for was right in front of me the whole time.
Strolling to my locker after the hour bell sounds; I struggle to open my stuffed locker. With a final tug, my smashed school work, once prisoned in my locker, releases and sprawls across the hall floor. Frantically picking up the crumpled, torn papers, I’m joined by another. Helping me pick up the pieces, with a relaxed smile ready to playfully tease my clumsiness, I became entranced. The only thing holding me back now is absolutely nothing at all. And with this final realization, I close the door on the past and open one to the boy who would mean more to me than anyone else before.