Teenage Dream

When your heart breaks, your best friend is right there to help you pick up the pieces. Usually they wield ice cream and cheesy horror movies, in the hopes of keeping your mind off that throbbing area where your heart used to be. If they can’t distract you, they let you cry on their shoulder for hours on end, until you’re too exhausted to sob anymore. Then they’ll lie with you until you fall asleep. Those are the unspoken rules that a best friend has to follow.

In our teenage years, a best friend’s shoulder is crucial, for heart break comes almost weekly. Our hormones are on a bloody rampage, making us believe in love at first sight, that our relationships will last forever. Sometimes I think that our bodies like playing these sick jokes on us, but that’s not possible because bodily organs are made of 90% water. That doesn’t leave enough space for malicious thought.

I’m no stranger to a broken heart. In my fourteen years, I’ve been kicked to the curb twice. The first time didn’t shake me up too much. It was just a lunchroom romance – completely meaningless. I’m pretty sure it lasted about two days, and it was with a girl, so…ew. The second time, however, was a different story.

It was my first real romance, with kissing and everything! We both thought it would last forever, and that we would run away together when we got the chance. His name was Dylan, and he was everything I could’ve ever wanted in a boy. He had an excellent taste in music, a good sense of humor, my dad liked him, my mom adored him, and he treated me like I was his driving force.

Oliver, my best friend, had introduced me to Dylan. Oliver and I had been practically attached at the hip since the sixth grade. He was the best friend I could ever ask for. It was important that he approved of Dylan, too. I felt like I was on top of the world when Oliver said that he supported our relationship. I felt like nothing could take me down, nothing at all.

Of course, nothing gold can stay, right? The kids in our school didn’t approve of a homosexual relationship. It happened almost overnight: people stopped talking to Dylan and me; glares and disgusted glances were directed towards us from all directions; the two of us were constantly called horrid names; people we called friends were now our enemies. Oliver stood by us, though. He ate lunch with us in the bathroom once it became too much of a hassle to try to force our way into the cafeteria. He came up with hilarious comebacks for all the insults thrown our way. And lastly, the most important thing he did was hold me as I cried when it all just became too much. I will forever be in debt to him because of all he did for me.

That relationship didn’t last, obviously. Dylan broke up with me one night by text message. I swear to God I felt my heart split into two the second it happened. He said he just wasn’t in love with me. In other words, he lied to me. In all honesty, I expected it. There isn’t anything special or different or fucking spectacular about me.

I remember throwing my cell phone against the wall, shattering it. I didn’t give a damn because it was old and barely usable. I snuck out my window and ran barefoot down the frost-covered sidewalk to Oliver’s house. I didn’t even realize that it was three in the morning.

Oliver opened the front door when he heard my frantic knocking. I probably looked like a hot mess, with teary eyes and hysteric features. He took me into his arms immediately, not even asking questions. I couldn’t even give answers if he wanted them – my voice was lost somewhere within my unrelenting sobs.

I spent the night at his house that night, and I didn’t go to school the next day. Oliver stayed home, too, so he could make sure I was okay. I didn’t go to school for about a week after that, whereas Oliver only spent a day out of school. I assumed it was because he couldn’t miss anymore school. I guess it didn’t matter; it was all a blur, anyway. Utter depression did that to you.

When I finally returned to school, nothing much had changed. People obviously knew that Dylan and I were no longer a couple, but they didn’t allow me back into their various social circles. It was like I was completely forgotten. I didn’t see Oliver all day either, but I didn’t think much of it because it was hard to scope out individual people in a high school as overcrowded as this one.

That night, Oliver came over. I was thrilled, because I was feeling seriously neglected. As selfish as it was, I was sort of upset and confused as to why he hadn’t been comforting me in my time of need. Oliver looked…weird. His eyes shifted every once and a while and he had restless legs. I knew something was bothering him, so I put aside my own issues to help him out.

Before I even got a chance to speak, he blurted out, “I’m going out with Dylan.”

I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t know how anymore. This numbness took over my body, and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Oliver looked at me expectantly; he wanted me to say something. Maybe he was waiting for me to lash out and scream at him. I bet he was surprised when I put on my biggest, fakest smile and said with forged enthusiasm, “That’s great! I bet you guys are so cute together.”

His nervous pose changed to one of excitement. I expected him to lie down on my bed and ramble on about Dylan’s “perfection” with me, but he just hugged me, yelled a farewell, and left.

Our friendship changed a lot after that.

Everyone knows that boyfriends come before best friends, no matter how much someone denies it. It’s understandable; sometimes I put Dylan before Oliver. Oliver spent all of his time with Dylan, and whenever we did hang out, he texted Dylan the entire time. Eventually, I just didn’t bother trying anymore. I figure if he wants to talk to me, rekindle our friendship, he’ll do it. But I won’t be waiting for him to come around.

This is supposedly just part of the teenage experience. Friendships come and go…relationships come and go – it’s natural. But no matter how “natural” it is, it still hurts.