Obviously, none of you will know who this is, so names are inconsequential. Only the story matters here, folks. The Hyacinth girl in The Waste Land has intrigued me ever since I first read The Waste Land. This is spelled out a bit more clearly in my writeup specifically on the hyacinth girl, but basically, I think she represents forlornness the ghosts of memory.

So here's the story of my personal hyacinth girl. Laugh, cry, have me committed, it's all up to you.


It was the summer before my fifteenth birthday, the first time I met Lisa. Immediately I was drawn to her, something that happens to people once in a while, I guess. Something about her bright eyes really got to me, I guess. Or maybe it was her supreme self-confidence. No matter, she was easily the most interesting person I had ever met, and still is. And as the weeks went by, we were young together, resting under the dogwoods, idly chattering away entire days of that summer, chasing each other around and around under that great big weeping willow in my backyard. She wasn't beautiful, at least not outwardly. She had buck teeth, and her hair was eternally a mess. But I loved her anyway - I loved that hair, I loved the feeling of it between my fingers. I loved the smell of it. I loved everything about that girl. And life was good.

The summer drew to a close, as summers are wont to do, and I went off to my boarding school, and Lisa stayed behind. Not a day passed, though, when I wasn't thinking of her. Hell, not an hour, minute, nor second passed without a thought of Lisa. We wrote letters frequently to each other, long, rambling things that never quite had a point except to say "I love you" at the end. We were going to go to college together, maybe get married after. And then, one day when I was 16 years old, I got a phone call. Lisa was dead. I almost died. I did die, in a way - at least part of me did. I know it sounds trite and cliched, but it's the truth. I put my fist through the flimsy wall of our dorm, several times, and when someone tried to stop me, I put his head through the wall. Eventually, though, I calmed down enough to get back on the phone. Lisa had died suddenly, on the Ultimate field - she had a massive stroke, she was dead before she hit the ground. The doctors assured me it was painless, but that was little comfort. I cried myself to sleep for a week. And although a good cry helps every so often, I never really recovered from her death. I'm more guarded now, less willing or able to open up to others, less willing to risk being hurt again.

Her memory haunts me, you know. I write letters to her, every one of my poems has been written to her. She keeps me awake nights. It's been about two years, and she still haunts me. But I'm not sure I'd have it any other way. To have it any other way would be to betray my love, my darling, my hyacinth girl.

Hodgepodge: your follow-up to my emotional prostitution led me here - I have a story similar to yours, it's different (for a start I am just a third party) but it is more complete than yours and you may appreciate it - Maybe I should put it in a seperate node but I think it's more appropriate here...
p.s. Anyone else reading this should read my emotional baggage first, i am loathe to nodevertise but this piece does assume knowledge of its content...
I have mentioned that I have an interest in people with emotional baggage. My present girlfriend is no exception. At the age of 15/16 she became close friends with two guys - especially close to one of them. She regarded him as her soul mate, they made plans to mirror each other through their school careers (both wanting to be doctors). She even says that he once saved her life as she was getting depressed through bullying, she considered suicide but he sensed this and made her promise never to do that to him. Of course she fell for him in a big way but then Valentine's day came along and she got presents from both of her close friends. Although she loved this one guy so much she turned him down because she could not bear putting her other friend through that torture. Anyway, just over a month passed - things had got a bit difficult with jealousy running high between the two guys, things came to a head at the end of March when, despite her feelings she had a go at the guy she loved for doing something particularly childish towards the other.

And that was the last thing that she ever said to him.

She got home from something or other on the 1st April (April fool's day, ironic) and on the front page of the newspaper was "Boy in coma after road accident". He had been on a cycle ride, he took his helmet off to ring his parents to ask if he could stay out a bit longer. They had said 'no' and then he got hit by a speeding car while crossing the road back to his bike.

Three years on I meet this girl, we start going out and it turns out that she has found a second soul mate. When we met we were both in a bit of a mess ('emotional baggage' gives a bit more detail on my problems) but we picked each other up - for the first time my girlfriend has found a guy that she can open to and I am practically cured of my emotional baggage.

It is now four years since Jon died. my girlfriend still misses him occasionally and she still has the rose that he gave her for Valentine's day but this April was different - she still hurt but in a different way, she could feel that she was getting over him and the improvement was so great that she was actually feeling a little guilty about it. This was the first April where she could turn around and say "I am happy".
My girlfriend kept a diary ever since Jon's death and every entry was addressed to him. Every entry, that is until about 8 months ago. It is a perfect chronicle of her grief and her recovery. It was slow - and it needed help, but time healed her in the end.

I don't know what i am trying to say here, in fact I don't want to preach anything (after all, I am just a bystander). Take from this story what you will but for everyone's sake (including Lisa's) I hope you find the ability to move on soon.......

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