Falling Down is Easy
The End
If this is all about honesty, and I am constantly assured that it is, then I'm going to have to lay everything on the table. At the very least, I can admit to all of the details that I remember but I should probably add that my memory is terrible. It always has been, and this situation does not change that. So, here comes a big secret of mine that I have never revealed to anyone out of the inability to explain. I hate beginnings. Beginnings are hard. Everyone always says that endings don't exist and that everything is just beginning; God, I hope that it isn't true. The beginning is when you're supposed to explain everything and learn everything that you need to know in order to understand the following details. The truth is that I could start this story with a beginning, lengthy and descriptive. I just don't know where the beginning really is.
I try to sit down, pen to paper, and to really understand where everything started. Was it when we met at school? Was it when he asked me on our first date? When he held my hand as I met his mother? The first time we made love? I don't know where it begins because beginnings are complex and over saturated. So here's what I will do. I'm going to tell you all about the endings. Endings are easy. You know exactly where they are, what they're about. You never have to sit and question where a period of your life ends because you know instantly that a huge part of you is gone. Luckily for me, this is a story full of endings.
The first ending was in high school.
I was sixteen years old and I was quickly changing. It wasn't the change of puberty, if that's what you're wondering. The thing is, I had only discovered the reformative effects of hair products the year before, and without a frizzy mop on the top of my head it was easier to notice that I was a teenage girl. It sounds kind of stupid, but silky hair was the best thing that had ever happened to me by that point. I had never had a boyfriend and had never even been asked out. I hardly had friends and only shared the boring details of my life with my English teacher through daily journals. I wouldn't say that I was a loser, but it was desperately clear that I was no one at all. I think that's what made him so interesting to me. Why did he notice me? Was it that he didn't recognize me without my nest of hair? I will never be certain of his desire to see me, to know that I exist. What I am certain of is that he was everything I had dreamed of boys being, and everything that I had hoped my boyfriend would be. He was funny and charming. He was kind and sincere. He made me laugh, never made me cry, and when I needed him most he was always there for me. He kept his word, and he made me feel like I could walk on water. While every relationship around us slammed together and then quickly crumbled apart, ours became stronger. Even through senior year, as I studied to graduate early, he spent every waking moment by my side. That was the first ending. I became a we.
I try to sit down, pen to paper, and to really understand where everything started. Was it when we met at school? Was it when he asked me on our first date? When he held my hand as I met his mother? The first time we made love? I don't know where it begins because beginnings are complex and over saturated. So here's what I will do. I'm going to tell you all about the endings. Endings are easy. You know exactly where they are, what they're about. You never have to sit and question where a period of your life ends because you know instantly that a huge part of you is gone. Luckily for me, this is a story full of endings.
The first ending was in high school.
I was sixteen years old and I was quickly changing. It wasn't the change of puberty, if that's what you're wondering. The thing is, I had only discovered the reformative effects of hair products the year before, and without a frizzy mop on the top of my head it was easier to notice that I was a teenage girl. It sounds kind of stupid, but silky hair was the best thing that had ever happened to me by that point. I had never had a boyfriend and had never even been asked out. I hardly had friends and only shared the boring details of my life with my English teacher through daily journals. I wouldn't say that I was a loser, but it was desperately clear that I was no one at all. I think that's what made him so interesting to me. Why did he notice me? Was it that he didn't recognize me without my nest of hair? I will never be certain of his desire to see me, to know that I exist. What I am certain of is that he was everything I had dreamed of boys being, and everything that I had hoped my boyfriend would be. He was funny and charming. He was kind and sincere. He made me laugh, never made me cry, and when I needed him most he was always there for me. He kept his word, and he made me feel like I could walk on water. While every relationship around us slammed together and then quickly crumbled apart, ours became stronger. Even through senior year, as I studied to graduate early, he spent every waking moment by my side. That was the first ending. I became a we.
♠ ♠ ♠
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