Monday, May 10, 2010
that boy, he's hope.
No one has ever hurt me like you have. Ever. And i hope no one ever does again. But they say your first love is the hardest to get over. You were such a terrible boy for me but i clung onto you with such a tight grip, begging, and pleading, and breaking myself and my dignity down every time i tearfully sat in front of you, on your bed, kissing your face repeatedly and asking you just to stay, to give us another chance, to just try. But you never did. You looked at me with such pity and out of guilt you would agree to stick around when you knew you shouldn't have. You were cold and heartless, but i learned that the first time you left me. However, when you came back after a long, lonely summer to yourself, i erased all of the memories and reminders of how awful you had been only to replace them with the hope that you were different, that you would be different, and that you would love me differently. What's that saying? How could I forget? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Well you fooled me all right. You put on your beautifully deceitful mask and lured me back in to fill your emptiness, to take the place of everything you couldn't have when i was gone, and to make yourself better. You were always such a selfish asshole. I hope you grow out of that one day.
And so, naive and hopeful, i placed my hand in yours but more importantly, my newfound trust and my healing heart, right in the palm of your dirty hands. History repeated itself and i ended up your fool. I hate myself for that and if i could go back in time, i'd go right to the day where i received that text message from you. I remember exactly where i was. I was standing in front of my mirror, in my bedroom, putting my hair up, getting ready to go out when my phone vibrated against the dresser. Casually i glanced down expecting it to be my best friend, but your seven digit number appeared on my screen. It no longer had your name with the little heart next to it, it was just a plain old number since i deleted you from my phone, from existance. I would go right to that moment and instead of stopping my world and my progress for you, i would ignore it and continue on with my life. But what happened, happened and there is no use dwelling on it. I truly believe everything happens for a reason. Some people look at that as a cop out, as the easy way to feel sorry for yourself, but life teaches you lessons. And this was one of mine, i suppose. A painful, devestating lesson.
When you left the second time around, i didn't know what to do with myself. I was broken, hopeless, hurt, cold, scared, depressed...i just wanted you back. I would spend my days just sitting in my room, thoughts running through my mind like a busy highway. I would just cry, and cry, and cry. And just when time had passed and i was finally getting better, something would set me off and i'd scramble for my phone and pour my heart out hoping you'd read my text and something in your stupid brain would click and you'd want me again. And then i would move on again, and then i would relapse and sleep with you. And then i would get hurt and move on again, and then something would set me off two months later and i'd be back to texting you. I was pathetic, i'll be the first to admit it. But a broken heart makes you do unthinkable things. It makes you crazy. For the longest time, i just felt broken. That's the only way to describe it. I wanted to give up on my life, on my heart, on love, on men. I would sleep with guys, lead them on, play with their heads...just to get back in some way, even if it wasn't directly to you. I wanted to be heartless. I truly felt like i would never feel for another man the way i felt for you, so why even bother trying? I felt like a zombie. Actually, i just felt nothing at all. You were moving on with your life. You were now a stranger. You were happy without me. And time just slowed down for me.
It's been five months since you left me. It's been a month and a half since my last relapse over you. I'm finally getting the cue to move on. My heart is finally getting tired of beating in hopes that you'll come back. My mind is finally tired of replaying memories and haunting me with dreams. My fingers are finally tired of typing out your phone number. My lips are finally tired of craving yours. I'm getting there. Slowly but surely, time is crawling on, but even crawling is moving forward.
And now, now there is him. I just met him in the past week, through a friend, but he's the kind of boy that gives me hope. He's not just a guy who wants me for sex, or he has yet to show that anyway. He's kind and cute and funny and he's everything i look for in a guy. I don't know what it is, but he makes me feel like i'm in fourth grade with the biggest crush. My heart actually feels happy again and he makes me smile. I'm not in love with him, not even close. I don't know what the future holds for us. I don't know if we'll talk for another week, or months, or years. I don't know if we'll end up together in the future or if it's just a crush. I have no idea whatsoever. But this is what i do know. You're not on my mind nearly as much. I don't get that empty feeling when i think of you. I don't miss you all that much. The sad places that remind me of you, are slowly just becoming places. Your flaws are standing out more than your good traits. And i feel. I feel again. I feel like maybe, just maybe, i could love someone more than you. I'm not scared to live anymore, i'm not so scared to love.
That new boy, i don't know what will happen with us. I don't need to know right now though, because the fact that i'm feeling at all is beautiful for me. I don't need any sort of elaborate love story to save me, i just need hope.
And that boy, he's hope.