The Girl of My Dreams

I’m stupid, soo damn stupid.

I remember the first time I saw her, in the arms of my best friend. At first, I thought they were dating, but it turns out she had just twisted her ankle in their P.E. class. Apparently, she didn’t have a boyfriend, she could never quite keep one, not because she was a bad screw or anything, of course not, because she could never find a guy she liked. It made perfect sense that guys kept going for her, those large hazelnut eyes, that amazing body. Everything about her was breathtaking.

When we got together, I was a complete dweeb. I couldn’t talk to her, I just stuttered. It took me months to actually get the guts to talk to her, and five tries to be able to ask for her number. She thought I was cute being so shy.

I remember why we broke up, it was my fault, not hers. She just needed to study, she had her final coming up. I always loved how smart she was, and the way the brown curls would wave over her glasses. She was really focused studying, math was it, but I needed attention, craved her touch. I just pushed her too far and she told me to get lost, not forever, just until she calmed down, but I wouldn’t take that. No, I told her we were through and ended 4 months of a great, nearly perfect, relationship with the girl, no, goddess of my dreams.

I remember her first boyfriend after me. He was tall, strong, and abusive. I saw the scars, everyone did. She came to school with bruises and black eyes. I asked her about them and she told me that I was out of line and to leave her alone. She let him hurt her for almost 3 months before things became too public for anyone to ignore. He got arrested one night after beating her to a pulp and trying to deflower her black and blue virgin body. The neighbors heard her screams for help and called the police.

Shortly after, she fell into a depressed state, wearing darker clothes, too much make up, wearing her hair to cover her face, losing a significant amount of weight. She didn’t talk much to anyone, though I know she would occasionally talk to my best friend. She tried to commit suicide one night, and when they found her sprawled over her bed with an open bottle of pills nearby her head, she was sent to therapy for the remainder of the school year.

She came back the next year as the exuberant, smiling chatterbox she was when we had first met. My best friend finally acted on his crush on her, assuming I wouldn’t mind as long as wed been broken up, though I did. They got together and, suddenly, they were inseparable. My friend and I became more distant as it was hared to spend time with him when I had become soo green with envy. She had gotten into indie rock when she was in therapy, and had kept her emo-gothic look.

I remember when they first started the band. She was an amazing singer, no surprise there. My best friend played guitar. A few of her other friends played in the band, but she was the real star. They went to record a demo and she got signed. My best friend encouraged her to take it, so she recorded her first album. They broke up when she decided to go on tour.

I remember when she came back to school in December after her tour. She was suddenly the most popular girl in school. None of her old friends could even get near her because the crowd was too thick. It might seem dumb, but I sent her a Christmas present anyways, just a book by an author I remembered she loved. She sent me a thank you but told me not to contact her, she didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.

I remember what happened when I got my first girlfriend after her. My girlfriend was the jealous type, as was she. My girlfriend called her a “no-talent washed-up wannabe” and she just attacked her. My girlfriend wasn’t much of a fighter and the fight was easily won buy her. She spat on my girlfriend and told her she was “nothing but a left-over taking stupid whore who needs to learn to keep her mouth shut” and she was right. Needless to say, I broke up with my girlfriend.

She started to take a new interest in me. The day she ran up to me, frantically asking if I could fill in for her drummer, was the best day of my life. She threw her arms around me and gave me a long kiss, not caring who was watching. She quickly blushed and walked away in a hurry. I was so happy, I hopped on my skateboard and sped home.

But, I never made it home. I got hit by a car and ended up in a coma. She blew off her concert to come see me.

“I cant believe you would do this! How dumb can you possibly be!?” she yelled.

Even In my coma, I could hear her. I could imagine her pacing around the room like she always does when she’s upset.

“You know, it wasn’t the driver’s fault, but if you die, he’s going to be in jail for a long time. An innocent man sent to jail because you made a dumb mistake! What were you even thinking?!” she demanded, though I knew she knew I wouldn’t answer.

“I’m yelling at you, and I really shouldn’t. I’m sorry, just, well, what if you die? Where will I be? I love you, I have no clue why, after what a jack ass you were too me, but I do. I just thought that tonight would be the night that we could be, well, “us” again.” she said, and I knew she was biting her lip, she always did that to keep from crying.

“I just, when you wake up from this coma, the first thing I’m, no, the first thing I’ll do is slap you for being so irresponsible, but right after that, I’m going to tell you I love you and I want to be with you, and, if you still want me, I’ll be your wife. Your, you, your mother to-told me that you wa-wanted to marry me one day, and I-ii accept,” she was crying.

The girl of my dreams, my princess, I had lost her before, and when I was getting her back, I just let her go. I’m stupid, soo damn stupid