Chapter 9: Her
It may sound pathetic, but I have never talked to the person responsible for the most profound changes in my life. As long as I have had conscious thought and memory, I have begged for recollection of advice that has changed me in a positive way from my parents. There really isn't any from my mother. She is a nurturer at heart, and seeks the comfort of others out in her daily routine. On the other hand, my father lives for himself. He is convinced that he is right, shoving his doctrine down your throat as though it were steel wool. I don't resent him for this. That is just the person he is. I can't help but respect a person with adamant ideals, even if I disagree. Unfortunately, he takes a distant second on the ever-truthful scale of "How many nights out of ten do you stay up screaming/crying about this person?" That scale has never lied to me. I trust it. Anyway, as I said, he is a distant second to my one true love. "True" only because, frankly, we never spoke a word. Our flawless silence paved my future.
It was first in the 8th grade that I saw her. I was then a sheltered youth, seeing a flood of new things for the first time. A girl, dressed in black, alone all the time. I could see it in her eyes; I will never forget her eyes. I saw this girl every day, but I was in love with her from the first. I loved everything she was and everything she would someday be. I would give anything to have talked to her even once. I would give anything to do it all over again. In so many ways, I want to be her. She embodied everything I then loved and still want. I longed for her, I cried for her, I lived for her, I died for her. I lost it all for her and she will never know.
I lived without life for a time, making a fantasy world my reality, filling the missing piece of my puzzle with the wrong section of jigsaw. Every time I forced a piece into the gap I let her create, it bruised the pieces around it. Everything was out of place. I was forced into a revolution of sorts. I don't know what it was, but I was different. I took to myself more because I lost faith in the world. To this day, I don't trust the thing that governs everything around me. I am the only one who can put the pieces together, and I know the pieces fit because I watched them tumble down. It can never be the same, but wounds can be repaired and replacements can be made. I started looking inward to repair my once vestal puzzle, now raped with pain and suffering.
In 11th grade, I met a girl who was just like her. I had so much residual adoration and trust for my silent lover that I trusted this "replacement" with everything I had. Of course, as most high school relationships are, she cheated on me, admitted to it, and then denied it - in that order. This messed me up considerably, and I continue to deal with the pain she caused me. We were together so intensely, and she led the way. She gave me the first kiss; she spoke the first fifty phrases of "I love you"; she invited me to her school dance; she cheated on me; she left me. I took in everything she brought to the table and gave everything back two hundred percent, sans the last two. I did my best not to lie to her. Alas, it was all for nothing. Why? I don't know, maybe because I bring it upon myself. I learned three things from that experience: a) never, at any cost, put your feelings and trust into the most beautiful girl you have ever seen, b) don't pretend people aren't who they seem to be, a person's soul doesn't lie, no matter how much you want it to, and c) never date again in high school. It will only destroy me further, which is the last thing I need at this point.
My silent worship for this woman destroyed me for years, and when I was finally getting over it, I committed emotional suicide in another person. I will recover with time, even though it's been well over a year. Maybe I take things harder than most people, but that's just me. My soul is frail and my hide even weaker. I trust so easily, and everybody around me knows my weaknesses. The truth of the matter is that anybody I know could easily destroy me as a person; I have always felt like I was on the verge of a break down. Hope drives me, steers me, shifts me, and even changes my tire.
At the same time, I don't regret or resent anything I've done. I'm not complaining about my life, just observing. Women have always been a bleak piece of my deflowered puzzle; perhaps part of the sky
It was first in the 8th grade that I saw her. I was then a sheltered youth, seeing a flood of new things for the first time. A girl, dressed in black, alone all the time. I could see it in her eyes; I will never forget her eyes. I saw this girl every day, but I was in love with her from the first. I loved everything she was and everything she would someday be. I would give anything to have talked to her even once. I would give anything to do it all over again. In so many ways, I want to be her. She embodied everything I then loved and still want. I longed for her, I cried for her, I lived for her, I died for her. I lost it all for her and she will never know.
I lived without life for a time, making a fantasy world my reality, filling the missing piece of my puzzle with the wrong section of jigsaw. Every time I forced a piece into the gap I let her create, it bruised the pieces around it. Everything was out of place. I was forced into a revolution of sorts. I don't know what it was, but I was different. I took to myself more because I lost faith in the world. To this day, I don't trust the thing that governs everything around me. I am the only one who can put the pieces together, and I know the pieces fit because I watched them tumble down. It can never be the same, but wounds can be repaired and replacements can be made. I started looking inward to repair my once vestal puzzle, now raped with pain and suffering.
In 11th grade, I met a girl who was just like her. I had so much residual adoration and trust for my silent lover that I trusted this "replacement" with everything I had. Of course, as most high school relationships are, she cheated on me, admitted to it, and then denied it - in that order. This messed me up considerably, and I continue to deal with the pain she caused me. We were together so intensely, and she led the way. She gave me the first kiss; she spoke the first fifty phrases of "I love you"; she invited me to her school dance; she cheated on me; she left me. I took in everything she brought to the table and gave everything back two hundred percent, sans the last two. I did my best not to lie to her. Alas, it was all for nothing. Why? I don't know, maybe because I bring it upon myself. I learned three things from that experience: a) never, at any cost, put your feelings and trust into the most beautiful girl you have ever seen, b) don't pretend people aren't who they seem to be, a person's soul doesn't lie, no matter how much you want it to, and c) never date again in high school. It will only destroy me further, which is the last thing I need at this point.
My silent worship for this woman destroyed me for years, and when I was finally getting over it, I committed emotional suicide in another person. I will recover with time, even though it's been well over a year. Maybe I take things harder than most people, but that's just me. My soul is frail and my hide even weaker. I trust so easily, and everybody around me knows my weaknesses. The truth of the matter is that anybody I know could easily destroy me as a person; I have always felt like I was on the verge of a break down. Hope drives me, steers me, shifts me, and even changes my tire.
At the same time, I don't regret or resent anything I've done. I'm not complaining about my life, just observing. Women have always been a bleak piece of my deflowered puzzle; perhaps part of the sky