Wasted Youth
Dakota.
“I love you Dakota. You know that right?” I could barely hear Jacoby over my own heart nearly beating out of my chest. My head was spinning, my legs felt as if they were about to give way, I couldn’t breathe. And I loved it. I clung to Jacoby with my might and could do nothing but nod. I breathed in his delicious smell and nestled my head into his shoulder. The streetlights around us illuminated the trees and made them look daunting. But that was all okay, I was safe in his arms and nothing could harm me now. I closed my eyes and let Jacobys breathing soothe me to sleep...
Jolting awake, I immediately stretch out my arms, to find them empty. My eyes fly open and I find myself like I have every previous morning for what seems like a lifetime; alone, shaking and wanting him more than anything in the world. I groan and reach for my phone beside me. Nothing. No missed calls, no texts, nothing. As usual.
But today is different. Today it hurts just that little bit more. One year and six months ago today, my life crashed and burned. And as of yet, it hasn’t even started healing.
Rubbing away last night’s forgotten mascara from my eyes, I climb out of bed and switch on my stereo. I can’t even name what’s playing, but it helps distract me from thinking so much. On my way over to my makeshift wardrobe – an “organised” pile of clothes on the floor – I nearly trip over the mass of bottles, plates, shoes and other general junk I don’t even remember ever seeing before. I guess I should have a clear out but that means going through all my old stuff; stuff that reminds me of Jay. And I still can’t think about that without feeling sick.
It’s weird how I call him Jay so much these days. It’s what all his friends call him, not that I know if I even count as a friend to him now. But when we first met I fell in love with his full name, Jacoby. And so Jacoby was what I called him, whether he liked it or not. Gradually it just became the norm that I would call him his full name whereas to anyone else, he went by nothing except Jay. I was his little exception; he said it was because I was so special. And like the idiot I was, I believed him. I mean, you could never throw away something or someone if you thought they were special right?
I suppose it helps to call him Jay now. I never used to think of him as that, so it helps take the sting away from when I think about him. Not by much, but it’s something at least.
Pulling on some vaguely (and hopefully clean) matching clothes, I run my straightners over my hair and begin on my makeup. I never used to wear much at all, that was until my self esteem hit rock bottom. It’s like my own personal mask now. The more I put on, the prettier I get. Of course realistically that’s not true but it comforts me. It’s impossible to see the hurt in someone’s eyes if you’re too distracted by what’s around them.
By the time I’m ready it’s gone one in the afternoon. It’s nice to actually have something to do today. Since I dropped out of college the “job hunt” hasn’t exactly been successful. While everyone else goes out and does something with their life I seem to spend my time in bed watching crappy daytime TV and wallowing in self pity. What a life, huh.
I had to make plans today. I don’t trust myself. If I stay by myself I don’t want to even think about what stupid crap I’d end up doing. The scars from last year still haven’t faded yet. I feel so pathetic, having to make sure I’m not alone on a stupid, sick and twisted anniversary I should be over by now in case I try and hurt myself.
“Oh it’s just teenage lust, it’ll pass dear.” How many times I’ve been told that I’ll never know. I’m not stupid, I have had boyfriends before. I know what “teenage lust” feels like. And this certainly isn’t that. This is something so much stronger. Something I can’t, no matter how hard I try, get over. A year and a half since he left me. And I’m still the same nervous wreck I was back then. That can’t be normal. But then again, I’ve never been one to be normal.
So getting back to today. I’m going to my best friend, Adele’s house. I do love her with all my heart as a friend but by God she could never understand any of this. According to her, I’m over it. She’s the type who can easily jump from guy to guy without so much as a second glance. It’s easy for her, all the guys love her. Whereas me, I’m just the awkward best friend who everyone only knows because of her. But today I’m going to grin and bear it. She’s talked me into going to this party tonight too. A friend of a friend of a friend is holding a house party and she reckons it’ll be “good for me” to get out and meet some people. I’m trying to take that in the nicest way possible.
I think about getting some breakfast, and even though my stomach objects strongly I force down some stale cereal. My appetite disappeared along with my enthusiasm for life it would seem. People remark on how skinny I’ve become, but honestly, I don’t really care. I never feel hungry anymore. Just sick. I throw the remainder of the cereal in the bin, make myself a cup of coffee and spark up a cigarette. He was the reason I started smoking too. How can one person have such a big impact on your life when they’re not even in it anymore? I drink and smoke until both are gone and start the half hour walk to Adele’s.
Jolting awake, I immediately stretch out my arms, to find them empty. My eyes fly open and I find myself like I have every previous morning for what seems like a lifetime; alone, shaking and wanting him more than anything in the world. I groan and reach for my phone beside me. Nothing. No missed calls, no texts, nothing. As usual.
But today is different. Today it hurts just that little bit more. One year and six months ago today, my life crashed and burned. And as of yet, it hasn’t even started healing.
Rubbing away last night’s forgotten mascara from my eyes, I climb out of bed and switch on my stereo. I can’t even name what’s playing, but it helps distract me from thinking so much. On my way over to my makeshift wardrobe – an “organised” pile of clothes on the floor – I nearly trip over the mass of bottles, plates, shoes and other general junk I don’t even remember ever seeing before. I guess I should have a clear out but that means going through all my old stuff; stuff that reminds me of Jay. And I still can’t think about that without feeling sick.
It’s weird how I call him Jay so much these days. It’s what all his friends call him, not that I know if I even count as a friend to him now. But when we first met I fell in love with his full name, Jacoby. And so Jacoby was what I called him, whether he liked it or not. Gradually it just became the norm that I would call him his full name whereas to anyone else, he went by nothing except Jay. I was his little exception; he said it was because I was so special. And like the idiot I was, I believed him. I mean, you could never throw away something or someone if you thought they were special right?
I suppose it helps to call him Jay now. I never used to think of him as that, so it helps take the sting away from when I think about him. Not by much, but it’s something at least.
Pulling on some vaguely (and hopefully clean) matching clothes, I run my straightners over my hair and begin on my makeup. I never used to wear much at all, that was until my self esteem hit rock bottom. It’s like my own personal mask now. The more I put on, the prettier I get. Of course realistically that’s not true but it comforts me. It’s impossible to see the hurt in someone’s eyes if you’re too distracted by what’s around them.
By the time I’m ready it’s gone one in the afternoon. It’s nice to actually have something to do today. Since I dropped out of college the “job hunt” hasn’t exactly been successful. While everyone else goes out and does something with their life I seem to spend my time in bed watching crappy daytime TV and wallowing in self pity. What a life, huh.
I had to make plans today. I don’t trust myself. If I stay by myself I don’t want to even think about what stupid crap I’d end up doing. The scars from last year still haven’t faded yet. I feel so pathetic, having to make sure I’m not alone on a stupid, sick and twisted anniversary I should be over by now in case I try and hurt myself.
“Oh it’s just teenage lust, it’ll pass dear.” How many times I’ve been told that I’ll never know. I’m not stupid, I have had boyfriends before. I know what “teenage lust” feels like. And this certainly isn’t that. This is something so much stronger. Something I can’t, no matter how hard I try, get over. A year and a half since he left me. And I’m still the same nervous wreck I was back then. That can’t be normal. But then again, I’ve never been one to be normal.
So getting back to today. I’m going to my best friend, Adele’s house. I do love her with all my heart as a friend but by God she could never understand any of this. According to her, I’m over it. She’s the type who can easily jump from guy to guy without so much as a second glance. It’s easy for her, all the guys love her. Whereas me, I’m just the awkward best friend who everyone only knows because of her. But today I’m going to grin and bear it. She’s talked me into going to this party tonight too. A friend of a friend of a friend is holding a house party and she reckons it’ll be “good for me” to get out and meet some people. I’m trying to take that in the nicest way possible.
I think about getting some breakfast, and even though my stomach objects strongly I force down some stale cereal. My appetite disappeared along with my enthusiasm for life it would seem. People remark on how skinny I’ve become, but honestly, I don’t really care. I never feel hungry anymore. Just sick. I throw the remainder of the cereal in the bin, make myself a cup of coffee and spark up a cigarette. He was the reason I started smoking too. How can one person have such a big impact on your life when they’re not even in it anymore? I drink and smoke until both are gone and start the half hour walk to Adele’s.