An invitation

My brain is so muddled lately. I'm trying to balance finishing a book (or my end of finishing it at least), packing and throwing and donating and selling for another big move (back to Knoxville - yay!), and teaching Xander some Kindergarten readiness stuff while I'm at it. Luckily I'm not working right now or I would just be crying all the time on top of being busy. So instead of sad brain; we have muddled brain.

But something sparked in me this morning as I was doing the dishes. I was remembering a post I wrote about an early heartbreak when it hit me. I want to hear everyone's tales of early heartbreak, because I think they mold us in distinct, tragic, beautiful, humorous, and touching ways that make us who we are at the end of our lives, too (and especially in the great long middle of our lives, when we're coupling and multiplying and floating). So I want everyone to send me the tale of your first crush/love. I'm talking about the obsessive one, the one when you were 12 or 13 or so. When your heart was literally right in your throat from 1st period to 7th period and the thought of sitting next to them at lunch consumed every waking (and dreaming) hour. I want to hear it. Who were you? Who were they? Was it ever requited? Do you still think of them? Etc. etc. etc. I know you've got it in you. If you want to share, I'll share it here. Just email it to me at christine.dano.johnson@gmail.com...maybe one day I'll make it into a book or a fancy website. Or maybe I'll just continue my voyeuristic journey; selfishly and with powdered sugar around my lips. xoxo

PS - I'm serious about this. Email me your very personal account of your first obsessive love, pretty please...(christine.dano.johnson@gmail.com) I don't care if it was a boy, a girl, your teacher, your cousin, yourself...I want to hear all the gory and dark, funny and embarrassing moments. Leave no stone unturned. I'll keep you anonymous on here, of course. Or not. You might be an exhibitionist like I am.