Infinitely Precious

Today in Ap Lang I made several girls cry when I read an essay I wrote. The essay had to be about an infinitely precious memory. Here is what I wrote:


Infinitely precious. What is infinitely precious to me? To answer this
I must re-write a song as old as the human race, one that dates back
to the Garden. The lyrics are ever-changing but the theme is the same.
The melody, beautiful and true. The theme: a young man loves a young
woman. Whether fickle or foolish or fleeting; he loves her.

I too have joined in this ancient beautiful melody, adding my own
variation mind you. I too have a love for a girl. A strong and sweet,
a moving and melancholy love for a young lady. She's the Dulcinea to
my Don Quixote. Alas, I can not tell the future, better this way it
is, but for now my love for her is true solid, and grounded. I will
fight with all I am to keep it that way.

I know I am supposed to write about a singular memory, but to fragment
her like that is heinous in its conception. For how could I, in a
single written memory, capture someone  beloved in infinence. I simply
can not bring myself to tear her into bits like that. I shall not
fragment her like Voldemort's horcruxed-soul. Instead I can only
provide you meager glimpses at the radiance that is She; for even my
words do not do her justice, nor would they if I spoke as eloquent and
silver as Shakespeare himself.

Though she is infinitely precious to me; I, being human, can only
simply inform you of my imperfect love for her.