To The Guy In My Heart: Part 1

I’ve known you for a year and a half, we worked together in the same store. I hated you at first. You were so loud, narcisstic, and obnoxious I could hear you across the store. 

Then one day I didn’t hate you anymore, I don’t know what changed my mind, but I looked forward to hearing your loud voice booming over the other noises and I silently begged for you to come over and hug me. Then when my close friend passed away you were the first person to ask my parents if I was okay because you were genuinely concerned about my well-being. 

After I quit I didn’t talk you until I ran into you at a bookstore a few months later. You seemed surprised to see me and hugged me even though I was soaked from the rain outside. You asked how I was doing and I told you I was depressed and suicidal, again you were there for me and said you were always available to talk to. I never reached out to you though since I feared that I would be a bother and you actually didn’t care. 

A few more months passed and I started working in the same store again. You were one of the first people to talk to me again. Like always you hugged me and we talked. When you walked me to my car after work you asked me to kiss you and I was taken aback by the question. I never assumed you showed any interest in me. I just thought that you treated me the same way you treat everyone else so I said no and drove away. You asked every day after work after that. Your dedication was charming and I found myself wanting to follow through with your request. So I did. 

Kissing you felt so good. Maybe because it was because I hadn’t kissed anyone for months after my breakup but I never wanted it to end. I felt your hand desperately grab at me trying to pull me closer to you. I never felt so wanted in my life. I went to your apartment that night. We didn’t have sex because I was too nervous but we cuddled and kissed and it felt so good. 

While I was there you told me you always thought I was beautiful but you were too scared to say anything. You showered me in affection and compliments and I could feel me being drawn more and more towards you. I hoped you felt the same about me as we shared secret kisses during and after work.

The following week yuou cancelled last minute on some plans we made and I cried in the parking lot for what felt like hours. I felt so betrayed and used. I didn’t want anything to do with you anymore because I thought you saw me as some kind of whore. I even cried about you at work and my manager tried to give me some advice on the situation. 

I confronted you about it though and you were genuinely sorry we didn’t go out. You promised me we would some other time and I felt ashamed for overreacting so much. I tried to distance myself from you for a while to try and get a hold of myself. It worked for a bit but then the distance was too much for me and it started to affect my work. 

Now we are back to normal and everything seems okay. I can only hope it stays that way as we continue on this weird rollercoaster. 

Contemplating Love

It feels as if I am meant to spend my whole life searching for love; trying to fulfill my craving for the feeling. However, how can I crave something I am sure I have never had? In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs it is the third tier so obviously the need for love is embedded into humans.

Growing up I assumed my parents loved me despite the constant physical abuse I endured. Now, though, I am not so sure. The abuse has stopped now that I am an adult but I can’t help but hate them a little bit because of what they did. As a kid I assumed that my parents loved me because I am their child and how could a parent not love their own kid. Then sometime in middle school I started thinking how messed up it was and how you shouldn’t resort to hitting and kicking to discipline a child. Thanks to our past we aren’t as close as I would like. I wish I had a healthy, close relationship with them- like the ones you see in movies or read about in books. Life isn’t a book or a movie though.

Another time I thought I found love was with my first boyfriend. I didn’t start dating until college which wasn’t by choice; I guess no one wanted to date me before then. Anyways, when we started dating I was unsure about everything. I second guessed his motives multiple times and I wondered if he ever liked me. I know my self consciousness played an important role in our break up because, now, I realize the strain it must have put on him on his side of the relationship. After the break up my anxiety skyrocketed- as if it could’ve gotten any worse. I told myself that he never loved me and he was just using me. I told myself that it was because I was so messed up no one could love me. I told myself that I blew the only chance I had at love because that was the only person in my mind to ever actually show interest in me. We are still close friends though and I know for a fact he does care about my well being considering he did talk me out of suicide. A part of me is still broken though from our break up.

There was one more time a little after I tried to let myself be with someone to find love. Nothing ever happened with this guy other than a few kisses here and there and some whispered nothings in the middle of the night, but then one day when we had plans he cancelled last minute and all of a sudden my world came crashing down. I realize that my reaction was a little extreme but in that moment of time it felt like I was being abandoned and used. I hated myself for getting so attached to him and allowing him to hurt my feelings. Oddly enough I am still friends with this guy too. We never talked about what happened that day he cancelled and the flirting came to a stop. My best guess is that he simply lost interest in me.

Now I know that you can also get love from your friends as well and I do have plenty of friends. They always tell me how much they love me and how much I mean to them but after so many people saying things and acting differently I find it hard to believe them. My therapist says it is just my anxiety telling me that they don’t love me and I agree with her. I know how much my friends and I value each other- especially after the death of one.

Maybe my issue isn’t that I am not loved but that I don’t allow myself to feel loved.

Goodbye…

“Tell me that we will work this out,” I begged.

The harsh wind was whipping at my loose, golden hair. Cold air bit at my skin and I wished I had dressed warmer before coming outside. I continued to stare at Beckett; his midnight black hair blended in with the shadows surrounding us. His ice blue eyes seemed to twinkle like the stars in the sky above us.

I was naive to think that anything between us would work out but I believed we could overcome anything- that our love was enough. My heart ached for his love, my body yearned for his touch; I wonder if he ever felt that way towards me. I would’ve done anything for him: thrown away everything I was working on, leave the life I knew, move to a strange place, anything. Apparently he wouldn’t have done the same for me. Apparently I wasn’t enough for him.

A part of me knew this was going to be the end, that whatever we had was over; severed by his decision to leave. I still wanted to fight for us though. Everything in me screamed to fight for him- to fight for us. I could feel my heart breaking the longer we stood there staring at each other. I knew I had to memorize every part of him before he left forever. I took in his messy hair my fingers were knotted in just hours before, his hands that fit perfectly in mine, his beautiful bright eyes, the lips that I craved the kiss of, and his tall frame. I remembered his hug that made me feel like I was at home and the feeling of his warm body against mine as we slept.

I did not bother to wipe away the tears I let escape. I hoped that maybe, if he saw me crying, he would realize the mistake he was making. I wanted to see any reaction in him but I was not given that privilege. He stood there as stoic as ever. I could barely tell if he was breathing or not. He seemed like a statue. I hated that about him; I hated that even as I was breaking in front of him he still never showed any emotion towards me. Maybe I was dead to him already- I may as well be.

I was starting to wonder how long we were going to stand here staring at each other. Perhaps he was also trying to remember me or maybe he was hoping for me to leave first so I would be the one who turned away and ended everything. I could feel the cold air starting to settle in my vulnerable heart and burrow itself deep into my bones.

The longer I stood there I felt myself start to hate him more and more. I hated him for giving up so easily. I hated him for leading me on for so long. I hated myself the most though… for falling in love with him and for being so weak that by him leaving made me broken and lost. I should’ve listened to the people who told me I was making a mistake. I should have never agreed to meet him in his room the fateful night he came to town. I was stupid for doing what I did and as much as I hate him now in this moment I hate myself more.

Maybe he could sense the sudden change in my emotion because he took a step back from me. That one single step shattered the pieces of my already broken heart. I watched as he took a deep breath and run his hand through his hair. He was stressed, as he should be. He knew what would come after this. He knew the damage was almost done. I waited to see if he was going to say anything to me but he just stood there staring.

More tears were coming out now. A painful sob ripped from my throat and I hoped the howling wind was loud enough to conceal it. My petite body was trembling from the cold and also from the emotions raging inside me. Fear now coursed through my veins. How will everyone else react when they find out, what do I do now that it’s over? Everything I knew for the past few months was now being ripped away from me. I decided that I had enough of him wasting more of my time and turned on my heel.

I was almost to the door when I heard him clear his throat. My hand paused in mid air as I was reaching for the doorknob. A glimmer of hope sprung out of the darkness of my heart but it was quickly buried again when the wind carried his words to me.

“I’m sorry Whitney,” he paused for a moment before continuing,”goodbye.”