A Love Story Part lll

He was just as uniquely different as she was. He was a young man who hadn’t quite figured his place in this puzzle called life. He was fairly attractive and had coyness about him that the girls found to be endearing. But when you took a closer look, the scars that he bared, both physical and within, showed a side that was not as delicate as his exterior portrayed.

He had no problems with the opposite sex. The women found him to be a bit mysterious and his checkered past only added to the intrigue. He had a strong confidence to him as well. He was often called arrogant or full of himself, but this was because he was simply himself and never tried to truly impress anyone. When someone is comfortable with who they truly are and stop trying to impress, society tends to deem them as vein or egocentric. He was far from this. You could see the innocence in his smile but you could also see the secrets hiding behind the darkness of his eyes. He had very few friends in his life and kept few ties with family. His strong belief in respect and values kept him from opening himself up to anyone and everyone. Some called this a fault, but to him this was just a way of life and a way to keep those with less than kind motives away.

He was a sculptor and used his hands to create his versions of life and love. He would sit there in his studio with all his materials and a bottle of aged whiskey and create pieces never before seen. Yet, he felt he created pieces from ideals and not through experience. He was unsure if he had ever loved or if he had ever been truly loved. Because of this, he was filled with the only doubt he had. Was he capable of being loved or loving in return? Many had touched him before and had inspired him to create magnificent pieces, but his soul craved to be with the one who would inspire him to create his greatest piece but with whom he would be so enveloped with that he could never complete it. Still this eluded him and he was aware of it.

No matter how creative he was, no matter how many people he met, no matter how many lips he kissed, and no matter how many bottles of whiskey he finished, he could never find what he knew was missing.