Status: It's completed, though it'll never be completely over.
Almost Lover
you were my first and my sweetest mistake.
The impossible whirring in my mind is no match for the carousel of emotions that I’ve experienced in the past two and a half months. There are so many things that have been left unsaid that I’m not sure where to begin. Should I start with the present, or shall I pick up the remote and rewind to the breezy September season, where the story starts? Or should I start with my feelings, or the things that have been made so plainly obvious, only someone oblivious couldn’t have predicted it? I just want you to know that I bear no self-pity for being foolish and naïve enough to fall, but after knowing what I now know, if I had the chance to go back and change it, I would do it in a heartbeat. You were the best and worse thing to come into my life.
I’ve never been the most openly emotional person out there, and certainly not the type of girl to consider what you’ve made me consider, nor did I plan to consider any time soon, especially not during my freshman year of high school, as no fourteen year old should be considering anything similar. I never had the overwhelming desire to find a half to make me feel whole; I never had the craving to find out what it felt like to be hugged, missed, or wanted; I have never felt the uncontrollable hunger that comes with yearning for affection so badly, it tore a hole straight through my chest and left a nasty gash in my heart that felt as if it would never heal. For all intensive purposes, I was the last person on earth that ever dreamed of falling madly in love with someone. How was it that you could capture my heart in exactly one minute? I never planned or had the intention of acquainting myself with you, why did I feel a flutter in those sixty seconds that we stood face-to-face with no choice but to let the words roll off of our tongues while the clock ticked in rhythm?
It’s crazy how much a person stands out in a throng of people once you know who they are. Before, they pass by in a blur of bodies, but after, their presence sticks out sharper than a knife. That’s how things with you were. Whether we were in the same room or in the same hallway, you were nothing but décor to the room. It took less than two minutes for you to become the centerpiece, the thing my eyes would be drawn to whether I wanted it to be this way or not. I guess you didn’t realize how much your words, although sticking to the surface, hit me with such a force, the impact was greater than anyone could have ever expected. The next day, the usual silence between us turned into a hello, and before I knew it, I was swept away and those hello’s turned into crazy conversations that left nothing but a smile on my face.
I know that nobody’s perfect, and that surely it wasn’t your intention to string me along, but how could you not have noticed what you were doing? You should’ve known better than to do those things that you did. I let you do them; how could I not? Ultimately, it was my mistake and it nearly led to my downfall. I should’ve ran, I should’ve sensed that you were a threat, but I didn’t, and I paid for it. I still pay for it, every single day. I still can’t wrap my mind around it, and really, I have only one question for you; why? I remember the full week of compliments I received from you, it rings clear as a bell. Everything you said made me feel pretty, like for once, I had done something right in a string of wrongs. I have the image still ingrained inside of my brain, the ones of that particular smile of yours, the one that went hand-in-hand with the wink that you seemed to throw at me every single time I passed by. And how about the first time you playfully elbowed me? What was that a sign of? Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I still cherish these moments? Did you think that I would forget? For someone who holds themselves in such high regards, you certainly don’t think that your actions will affect anyone.
I recall as clear as the sky, the one and only time you threw your arm over my shoulder. If that wasn’t a giveaway, I don’t know what is. Most girls would shrug it off because it’s no big deal, plenty of guys do that. But that’s the thing; I’m not most girls. That was the first time someone’s ever done that to me, surely you could tell by the way I reacted. I thought it was obvious that I didn’t have any sort of experience with that sort of thing, and after the way it played out, you had to have figured it out. Part of me still thinks that you know on some level, but the other part dutifully argues that you would’ve stopped altogether if you knew, but how I knew that you would is an entirely different story. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I’ve got one more memory left, but that one is so simple and yet holds the impact of a boulder, I feel as if it’s a little secret that I owe both you and myself to keep, even if you don’t understand how much I truly cherished—still cherish, even—the moment.
My friends told me to chase after you, that surely you must feel the same way if you keep acting the way you do. I don’t know if they were just as oblivious as I was, or if they figured it out before I did and continued to cheer me on to spare me the earth-shaking, heart-shattering pain that was bound to follow, but I saw your true colors, splattered all across a canvas no one knew was there. The more I saw you, the more I realized that as the days grew, so did the interactions with the females. I grew to realize that perhaps I was nothing special in your eyes, and in fact, I felt it quaking in my bones and rushing through my veins. Do you know how much you hurt me, without even knowing it? You made me feel the worst pain I’d experienced since the start of the year, where I hit the lowest of low, where I dwelled at my own personal rock bottom.
But it got worse, when a friend of mine and I were talking with one another. You came up in the conversation; on the outside, I groaned at the sound of your name and wanted nothing more but for you to disappear, but in the inside, I perked up and secretly, for I would never admit this aloud, but you were the only thing I wanted to discuss. I hesitated to believing it, but I knew it was true, deep inside of me. The more we talked, the more I realized what kind of person you were. It was her words that helped me and exposed me to a new side of you that I didn’t think about, the side I didn’t expect to exist. It was suspicious, how what you said and what you did simply didn’t add up. You played this game with me and all of these other girls for a reputation. You want to be accepted just like the rest of us, but honey, I see through your mask now. I see you crystal clear for what you are, and while you’re not a monster, you’re the kind of person I have no choice but to turn my back on. You’re a liar, you led me on, and worst of all, you’re so oblivious that you have no idea and so you’ll never own up to your actions and give me the apology I know damn well I deserve.
I hope you realize that whatever reputation you build up, in four years, that won’t mean anything anymore. We’ll all be heading to college and getting started on the first chapter of our lives as adults. You won’t know how to be yourself, you’ll have to discover who you really are four years too late because you wasted your high school years pining after the popularity that will serve no benefit to you in the long run. In high school, people change, and people turn on each other easily. One wrong move and you can easily be exiled, so be careful. Though you deserve it, I don’t wish it on you. The last thing I’d like to see is your unhappiness; I thought you’d want the same thing for me, but I suppose not. You don’t care about me, I know you don’t. I realized with horror that you could reach your downfall soon, and when I surround myself with people I rarely talk to and you come up, I realize that you’re not quite as loved as you think you are. And for the first time, I saw the ghost of a man that I loathed; a man I knew from middle school that everyone loathed, and that you were on the path to becoming just like him. I should’ve known you’d bring me despair, but what was I to do?
I remember one month into this, where I felt almost obsessive. It was ridiculous how I acted, and you were the cause. You were the problem, and you were the solution. For every minute that I spent talking to you, that was another fifty nine spent just thinking about you. I’d become extremely discouraged and depressed when I didn’t spot you at the places where I normally did, and I felt over-the-moon joy whenever you acknowledged my existence. I was most vulnerable then. It was the point where literally, I couldn’t get you off of my mind. Whenever I thought about my day or what I’d done or even the thought of high school, your face was the first thing to enter my mind, and for hours, it lingered at the foreground of my mind. I used to have scenarios play out in my head and hope for them to happen in real life; they never did. You were the only reason I got up in the morning, and the only reason I found hope in tomorrow, the motivation in me finding comfort in sleep. I couldn’t wake up in the morning without you on my mind, in case you didn’t know. You really had a hold on me, a hold equivalent to being chained to a damp and mossy brick wall that required the utmost strength to break, strength I could only find in myself, and I have.
How could something so right, feel so wrong? Why couldn’t you have just let me be? All I wanted was a simple way to build a bridge and get over it, go to the other side and pray that I never see your face again. In a span of two and a half months, you broke me down and in those two and a half months, I tried approximately four times to cleanse myself of you. In fact, I’d been convinced that I’d finally gotten over you, but I was sorely mistaken. Every single time I thought I was over you, I had nothing left in my life to occupy my time, and so I opened the door again out of boredom against my will. I didn’t realize that I was doing it until it was too late; I didn’t realize it until last week, actually. It was the last week I’d let myself open the door and this week, my only goal was to get rid of you and wash you out of my hair permanently. I’m doing that now, and I can honestly say that I’ve accepted that this is the final time I’ll let myself do it. I’m stronger than this, I shouldn’t let this happen. I’ve been haunted by you in my mind, and I bet you’re doing just fine. I made it entirely too easy for you to walk in and out of my life, an existence that went from watercolor gorgeous to bleaker than grayscale and depressing poetry combined.
You deceived me, used me, and tricked me into believing that for the first time in my life, I wouldn’t be judged. I thought you saw me for who I was then, not who I used to be. I don’t hate you, but it’s safe to say that I hold primarily ill feelings towards you. I will never forget what kind of emotional wreck you turned me into. I thought I knew you well enough to see that you weren’t a scam in disguise. I’ve always had a particularly good sense of character judgment, but I suppose your charming façade slipped through the cracks. I’m not a shamed to admit I had been wrong about you, although I’m more ashamed of the time that I spent where you were the center of everything, where my world revolved around you. When I think of all the time I wasted in vain, I could cry. I know who you are now, and I don’t love you anymore. You may not be a beast, but you certainly aren’t a prince trapped under a curse.
I guess it’s my fault for falling too hard, too fast, and not knowing what to do about it. Most of all, I think I’m just disappointed with how it all turned out. I made too many wishes about you—about us–that in the end, it didn’t even matter. I went through emotional turmoil over you. I was a disaster, and you were the cause. I hope you’re happy, I hope you can live with yourself after ruining me. I’ll set my pride aside, but go ahead, tear me open and take a peek inside, do you realize how many times I’ve beat myself up over you? More than I could count, and that’s a promise. I wish you cared, but there’s nothing I can say or do. I’ve done all that I can. I tried everything.
Did you know that you’re really hard to hate, and it’s all my fault? I tried so hard to hate you, believe me, I did. I spent a small portion of time faking a smile when your eyes were on me, but the minute you turned your head, a string of insults under my breath were set loose. I realized, though, that I couldn’t do it. I can’t just hate a person because they don’t feel the same. Somehow, you never managed to figure it out, and for that, I suppose I can’t blame you. How is fair for me to sit and hurt over you, but you can get off scot-free because you never noticed? It’s not fair at all, but there’s nothing I could’ve done. You did this, and yet, the only person I can blame is myself. It was foolish of me for letting my guard down one too many times. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me; fool me more than that, and the only fool left is me.
The thing I wanted most of all was to tell you everything, just to get the truth and not waste my time chasing an empty promise, but there was that possibility of rejection followed by not being able to look each other in the eye (or rather, you not looking me in the eye) ever again. My biggest fear was losing you, when really, my biggest fear should’ve been getting you. I remember a time where when I go back and analyze it, I see a completely different person. I was a bit louder, a bit happier, a bit more obnoxious, a bit more honest, and a bit more critical. This person was the me that I knew how to be when I was with you. I respect this person, but I don’t like who she was. I’m me now, and without you, I would not be me. I guess that’s one good thing that came out of it, but the positives could never outweigh the negatives, not after what’s happened. I forgive you, but never could I forget. I would never do something as foolish, not in a million years. You took me for granted, but not anymore; it ends now.
Through all of this, I suppose I have to say thank you, as well. You taught me a lesson that would have never resonated with me quite as well as it did, had I not experienced it. If I'd known at the time what I know now, I would have pretended to feel sick and get a pass to the nurse's office, or dash out of my seat faster and take a spot closer to the door. I’ve spent more than enough time talking, thinking, feeling, and wasting my time on anything that concerns you. I’m done, I’m finally finished with you, and you’ve lost the game. I’m dimming the lights, pulling the curtains, and mustering every single cell inside my body for this. I still cannot find it inside of me to cut you out of my life completely, not to mention that even if I could, the fact that I’ve no choice but to see you each and every day and I’m entirely too polite to give you the cold shoulder. You still make me smile and laugh, even if you’re nothing but a fool and a tool. A small part of my heart will still belong to you, after all, you were my first huge crush; you were my first love. It took you one minute to steal my heart, and two and a half months for me to steal it back, but I did it, and I’m finally doing what I should’ve done a long, long time ago. I’m saying goodbye.
Goodbye, my almost lover.
I’ve never been the most openly emotional person out there, and certainly not the type of girl to consider what you’ve made me consider, nor did I plan to consider any time soon, especially not during my freshman year of high school, as no fourteen year old should be considering anything similar. I never had the overwhelming desire to find a half to make me feel whole; I never had the craving to find out what it felt like to be hugged, missed, or wanted; I have never felt the uncontrollable hunger that comes with yearning for affection so badly, it tore a hole straight through my chest and left a nasty gash in my heart that felt as if it would never heal. For all intensive purposes, I was the last person on earth that ever dreamed of falling madly in love with someone. How was it that you could capture my heart in exactly one minute? I never planned or had the intention of acquainting myself with you, why did I feel a flutter in those sixty seconds that we stood face-to-face with no choice but to let the words roll off of our tongues while the clock ticked in rhythm?
It’s crazy how much a person stands out in a throng of people once you know who they are. Before, they pass by in a blur of bodies, but after, their presence sticks out sharper than a knife. That’s how things with you were. Whether we were in the same room or in the same hallway, you were nothing but décor to the room. It took less than two minutes for you to become the centerpiece, the thing my eyes would be drawn to whether I wanted it to be this way or not. I guess you didn’t realize how much your words, although sticking to the surface, hit me with such a force, the impact was greater than anyone could have ever expected. The next day, the usual silence between us turned into a hello, and before I knew it, I was swept away and those hello’s turned into crazy conversations that left nothing but a smile on my face.
I know that nobody’s perfect, and that surely it wasn’t your intention to string me along, but how could you not have noticed what you were doing? You should’ve known better than to do those things that you did. I let you do them; how could I not? Ultimately, it was my mistake and it nearly led to my downfall. I should’ve ran, I should’ve sensed that you were a threat, but I didn’t, and I paid for it. I still pay for it, every single day. I still can’t wrap my mind around it, and really, I have only one question for you; why? I remember the full week of compliments I received from you, it rings clear as a bell. Everything you said made me feel pretty, like for once, I had done something right in a string of wrongs. I have the image still ingrained inside of my brain, the ones of that particular smile of yours, the one that went hand-in-hand with the wink that you seemed to throw at me every single time I passed by. And how about the first time you playfully elbowed me? What was that a sign of? Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I still cherish these moments? Did you think that I would forget? For someone who holds themselves in such high regards, you certainly don’t think that your actions will affect anyone.
I recall as clear as the sky, the one and only time you threw your arm over my shoulder. If that wasn’t a giveaway, I don’t know what is. Most girls would shrug it off because it’s no big deal, plenty of guys do that. But that’s the thing; I’m not most girls. That was the first time someone’s ever done that to me, surely you could tell by the way I reacted. I thought it was obvious that I didn’t have any sort of experience with that sort of thing, and after the way it played out, you had to have figured it out. Part of me still thinks that you know on some level, but the other part dutifully argues that you would’ve stopped altogether if you knew, but how I knew that you would is an entirely different story. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I’ve got one more memory left, but that one is so simple and yet holds the impact of a boulder, I feel as if it’s a little secret that I owe both you and myself to keep, even if you don’t understand how much I truly cherished—still cherish, even—the moment.
My friends told me to chase after you, that surely you must feel the same way if you keep acting the way you do. I don’t know if they were just as oblivious as I was, or if they figured it out before I did and continued to cheer me on to spare me the earth-shaking, heart-shattering pain that was bound to follow, but I saw your true colors, splattered all across a canvas no one knew was there. The more I saw you, the more I realized that as the days grew, so did the interactions with the females. I grew to realize that perhaps I was nothing special in your eyes, and in fact, I felt it quaking in my bones and rushing through my veins. Do you know how much you hurt me, without even knowing it? You made me feel the worst pain I’d experienced since the start of the year, where I hit the lowest of low, where I dwelled at my own personal rock bottom.
But it got worse, when a friend of mine and I were talking with one another. You came up in the conversation; on the outside, I groaned at the sound of your name and wanted nothing more but for you to disappear, but in the inside, I perked up and secretly, for I would never admit this aloud, but you were the only thing I wanted to discuss. I hesitated to believing it, but I knew it was true, deep inside of me. The more we talked, the more I realized what kind of person you were. It was her words that helped me and exposed me to a new side of you that I didn’t think about, the side I didn’t expect to exist. It was suspicious, how what you said and what you did simply didn’t add up. You played this game with me and all of these other girls for a reputation. You want to be accepted just like the rest of us, but honey, I see through your mask now. I see you crystal clear for what you are, and while you’re not a monster, you’re the kind of person I have no choice but to turn my back on. You’re a liar, you led me on, and worst of all, you’re so oblivious that you have no idea and so you’ll never own up to your actions and give me the apology I know damn well I deserve.
I hope you realize that whatever reputation you build up, in four years, that won’t mean anything anymore. We’ll all be heading to college and getting started on the first chapter of our lives as adults. You won’t know how to be yourself, you’ll have to discover who you really are four years too late because you wasted your high school years pining after the popularity that will serve no benefit to you in the long run. In high school, people change, and people turn on each other easily. One wrong move and you can easily be exiled, so be careful. Though you deserve it, I don’t wish it on you. The last thing I’d like to see is your unhappiness; I thought you’d want the same thing for me, but I suppose not. You don’t care about me, I know you don’t. I realized with horror that you could reach your downfall soon, and when I surround myself with people I rarely talk to and you come up, I realize that you’re not quite as loved as you think you are. And for the first time, I saw the ghost of a man that I loathed; a man I knew from middle school that everyone loathed, and that you were on the path to becoming just like him. I should’ve known you’d bring me despair, but what was I to do?
I remember one month into this, where I felt almost obsessive. It was ridiculous how I acted, and you were the cause. You were the problem, and you were the solution. For every minute that I spent talking to you, that was another fifty nine spent just thinking about you. I’d become extremely discouraged and depressed when I didn’t spot you at the places where I normally did, and I felt over-the-moon joy whenever you acknowledged my existence. I was most vulnerable then. It was the point where literally, I couldn’t get you off of my mind. Whenever I thought about my day or what I’d done or even the thought of high school, your face was the first thing to enter my mind, and for hours, it lingered at the foreground of my mind. I used to have scenarios play out in my head and hope for them to happen in real life; they never did. You were the only reason I got up in the morning, and the only reason I found hope in tomorrow, the motivation in me finding comfort in sleep. I couldn’t wake up in the morning without you on my mind, in case you didn’t know. You really had a hold on me, a hold equivalent to being chained to a damp and mossy brick wall that required the utmost strength to break, strength I could only find in myself, and I have.
How could something so right, feel so wrong? Why couldn’t you have just let me be? All I wanted was a simple way to build a bridge and get over it, go to the other side and pray that I never see your face again. In a span of two and a half months, you broke me down and in those two and a half months, I tried approximately four times to cleanse myself of you. In fact, I’d been convinced that I’d finally gotten over you, but I was sorely mistaken. Every single time I thought I was over you, I had nothing left in my life to occupy my time, and so I opened the door again out of boredom against my will. I didn’t realize that I was doing it until it was too late; I didn’t realize it until last week, actually. It was the last week I’d let myself open the door and this week, my only goal was to get rid of you and wash you out of my hair permanently. I’m doing that now, and I can honestly say that I’ve accepted that this is the final time I’ll let myself do it. I’m stronger than this, I shouldn’t let this happen. I’ve been haunted by you in my mind, and I bet you’re doing just fine. I made it entirely too easy for you to walk in and out of my life, an existence that went from watercolor gorgeous to bleaker than grayscale and depressing poetry combined.
You deceived me, used me, and tricked me into believing that for the first time in my life, I wouldn’t be judged. I thought you saw me for who I was then, not who I used to be. I don’t hate you, but it’s safe to say that I hold primarily ill feelings towards you. I will never forget what kind of emotional wreck you turned me into. I thought I knew you well enough to see that you weren’t a scam in disguise. I’ve always had a particularly good sense of character judgment, but I suppose your charming façade slipped through the cracks. I’m not a shamed to admit I had been wrong about you, although I’m more ashamed of the time that I spent where you were the center of everything, where my world revolved around you. When I think of all the time I wasted in vain, I could cry. I know who you are now, and I don’t love you anymore. You may not be a beast, but you certainly aren’t a prince trapped under a curse.
I guess it’s my fault for falling too hard, too fast, and not knowing what to do about it. Most of all, I think I’m just disappointed with how it all turned out. I made too many wishes about you—about us–that in the end, it didn’t even matter. I went through emotional turmoil over you. I was a disaster, and you were the cause. I hope you’re happy, I hope you can live with yourself after ruining me. I’ll set my pride aside, but go ahead, tear me open and take a peek inside, do you realize how many times I’ve beat myself up over you? More than I could count, and that’s a promise. I wish you cared, but there’s nothing I can say or do. I’ve done all that I can. I tried everything.
Did you know that you’re really hard to hate, and it’s all my fault? I tried so hard to hate you, believe me, I did. I spent a small portion of time faking a smile when your eyes were on me, but the minute you turned your head, a string of insults under my breath were set loose. I realized, though, that I couldn’t do it. I can’t just hate a person because they don’t feel the same. Somehow, you never managed to figure it out, and for that, I suppose I can’t blame you. How is fair for me to sit and hurt over you, but you can get off scot-free because you never noticed? It’s not fair at all, but there’s nothing I could’ve done. You did this, and yet, the only person I can blame is myself. It was foolish of me for letting my guard down one too many times. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me; fool me more than that, and the only fool left is me.
The thing I wanted most of all was to tell you everything, just to get the truth and not waste my time chasing an empty promise, but there was that possibility of rejection followed by not being able to look each other in the eye (or rather, you not looking me in the eye) ever again. My biggest fear was losing you, when really, my biggest fear should’ve been getting you. I remember a time where when I go back and analyze it, I see a completely different person. I was a bit louder, a bit happier, a bit more obnoxious, a bit more honest, and a bit more critical. This person was the me that I knew how to be when I was with you. I respect this person, but I don’t like who she was. I’m me now, and without you, I would not be me. I guess that’s one good thing that came out of it, but the positives could never outweigh the negatives, not after what’s happened. I forgive you, but never could I forget. I would never do something as foolish, not in a million years. You took me for granted, but not anymore; it ends now.
Through all of this, I suppose I have to say thank you, as well. You taught me a lesson that would have never resonated with me quite as well as it did, had I not experienced it. If I'd known at the time what I know now, I would have pretended to feel sick and get a pass to the nurse's office, or dash out of my seat faster and take a spot closer to the door. I’ve spent more than enough time talking, thinking, feeling, and wasting my time on anything that concerns you. I’m done, I’m finally finished with you, and you’ve lost the game. I’m dimming the lights, pulling the curtains, and mustering every single cell inside my body for this. I still cannot find it inside of me to cut you out of my life completely, not to mention that even if I could, the fact that I’ve no choice but to see you each and every day and I’m entirely too polite to give you the cold shoulder. You still make me smile and laugh, even if you’re nothing but a fool and a tool. A small part of my heart will still belong to you, after all, you were my first huge crush; you were my first love. It took you one minute to steal my heart, and two and a half months for me to steal it back, but I did it, and I’m finally doing what I should’ve done a long, long time ago. I’m saying goodbye.
Goodbye, my almost lover.
♠ ♠ ♠
They say to write about what you know, and to write from the heart. For the first time, I did exactly that. This was really hard to write, because this was all true. I left out a few memories, a few details I felt were too sacred to include, which was why I put it under original fiction versus true story; it didn't feel right, although I may go back and change it. This is how I'm finding closure from the situation, since I don't think I'll be getting it from the person who caused it. This is a letter to them, a letter I doubt they'll ever read. I have a scenario in my head where they do, but I honestly don't know if they'd know it's about them or not. In case this scenario happens (unlike the other ones), I've chosen to omit certain details for that reason as well.This is the most raw, pure, and true story I've ever typed. It's the most honest thing I've ever written in my entire life. I felt like I'd been hit with a tornado of emotions when I wrote it, so just know that it came straight from my heart. It took a lot of courage, strength, memory strain, and tears to write this, but I feel stronger, happier, and healthier because of it. I'll probably be coming back every so often to add more, because the more I think, the more I feel the need to let out the emotions. This was therapeutic, I'd really love some feedback, so could you please leave some?
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