Just a little one-shot I wanted to try.
Summary: They always tell me that it's all heart, and no brains. That it's a phase. It'll pass. What they don't understand, is that I truly, genuinely, love, love, love, him madly.
I fidgeted endlessly with the straps of my black and gold TNA gym bag. My hair fell over the left side of my face and I felt the sweat on my palms. I rubbed them on the red baby-doll dress I was wearing. Glancing at my feet, I exhaled slowly. Ballet flats. Laced at the sides. Very cute.
I don't know why I was so nervous. Maybe it was because my mother and brothers were there with me. Or maybe it was because I was going to meet his step-dad. Yet another person to impress. I glanced over at my mother. Her dark hair was swept back and clipped up as usual. It looked good on her. Her lips were painted red and she wore her usual skirt and blouse. Her face was set in a disapproving pout. She didn't agree with this decision. I knew she wouldn't. My brothers were dressed in khaki shorts and message tees. And me? Well, I'd dressed up for this moment. Not in anything fancy, but in nice clothes. I wasn't rocking my usual T-shirt and torn jeans. Now it was tights and a baby-doll dress with a bag and flats. It'd been this way for a while.
I'd gone shopping with this specific moment in mind. I wanted to make a good impression on his family. I'd already met his mother. Two years ago, when he'd first visited me. She was very...I'm not even sure what word to use. I never really asked him afterwards what she'd said about me. I suppose a part of me was afraid to find out. Back then, I was kind of expecting her to hate me. Now, I'm a hundred percent sure that she does not approve of me. Reason number one: I live in a completely different country. Reason number two: (This isn't my reason, it's something almost all my friends agree on) I'm brown. They seem to think that she's racist.
His family is American, by the way. They live in Kalamazoo, Michigan.
Reason number three: I'm older than him. This reason is complete bullshit. I'm only six months older. It barely even counts. I mean, I'm only older than him for six months, and then we're the same age. Stupid. Age doesn't matter to me. I hope he knows that.
We've been together for a year now. We didn't celebrate or anything. I think that's another reason why I value our relationship so much. We're not like other couples. We don't live only for little occasions like that. We genuinely respect and admire each other. I love his ability to make me laugh and smile, even by saying a simple 'Hello' everyday, I absolutely adore his writing skills, and his subtle awkwardness. I don't know what he likes about me... Sometimes I want to ask, but again, I chicken out last minute. What if he says, "Nothing"?
Obviously that's stupid. If he didn't like anything about me, he wouldn't have asked me to get back together with him.
I'm jumping all over the place. Let me start from the beginning. That way you won't be confused.
We met online. My best friend told me about this site called She said that I could post my very own stories on there, so of course, I was psyched. I wrote, and posted. Wrote, and posted. And read, of course. One day, I read one story that really touched me, so I reviewed.
To tell you the truth, this surprised me. No author had ever replied before. Anyway, I replied back afterwards, and that continued for a day or two, and he finally asked me if I had Hotmail. Actually, he asked me if I had AOL, or something along those lines, but I said, "No, I have Hotmail." And then I gave him my E-mail address.
He added me.
On January 1st, 2005, we started talking.
At that time, I was dating someone else. Shawn Williams. We'd been together for almost a month, and we still hadn't kissed, because we wanted the first kiss to be perfect. I'm so glad I waited. You have no idea how glad. After two weeks, he told me that he thought he was in love with me. Not Shawn. My current boyfriend. Let's call him... E.V. for the moment, shall we?
Anyway, E.V. said he was falling in love, or was already in love with me. Can you spelled S-H-O-C-K-E-D? I didn't know what to say. I think a part of me really, really liked him. Scratch that. A part of me, adored him. I could talk to him for hours, and hours and never get bored. With Shawn, I had to be ready to talk about him, all the time, but with E.V., things were different. He listened, when I wanted to talk, and he talked when I just wanted to listen. It seemed like he understood me. He knew me better than Shawn.
He saw past all my flaws, I guess. Or maybe he fell for me because I was so flawed. He fell in love with me, before he even saw me.
That struck me.
He wasn't shallow. He genuinely liked me, and I didn't know how to take that in. I think in a way, it scared me. I was so used to people judging me by my looks before anything else. They took in my skin color, eye color and shape, smile, height, weight, shape, and all that jazz. I started crushing on him. And, without even seeing his face. Without telling E.V., I dumped Shawn.
Before you leave, spewing hatred for me through your eye-sockets, hear me out. I know that I might not be able to justify my decision, but I wanted to give E.V. a chance. I was taking such a huge risk, I know, and even now I wonder what would've happened, if he'd been some eighty-something pedophile. But something told me to trust him, so I did. My friends criticized my judgement endlessly for that, and I lost some amazing friendships, because of my relationship with him. I lost Shawn, who was a close and dear friend. And even to this day I regret not telling him exactly why, but he wouldn't understand. He dated someone else for a while, but dumped her.
He still likes me.
Anyway, back to E.V. and myself. I decided to give him, to give "us" a shot. It didn't take me very long to fall in love with him, either. Granted, I'd never really experienced the "glory of love" before, but my best friend Monika, knew it very well, seeing as how she'd been with the same guy for four years. He was her first boyfriend. They'd been dating since she was fifteen, and he was eighteen. I'd asked her to describe love to me, and after staring at me suspiciously (I hadn't told her that E.V. and I were "dating" yet) she said that it was an endless case of butterflies. A feeling of complete ecstasy in the muscles. It tore through your body like a wildfire and ate away at any logic and sense that you've ever had. But following this, she said,
"It's the most amazing feeling in the world; to be able to love is to be able to give all of you away in a burst of complete trust. It's allowing yourself to step out of that protective covering. By falling in love, and being loved in return, you're allowing yourself to become vulnerable to all of it's advantages and disadvantages." She'd looked at me, then, and had asked me why I'd wanted to know.
I told her.
The look on her face at that moment, I will never forget. It was a mixture of disgust, shock, disapproval, and a glare that went beyond anything my biggest enemy could deliver. My best friend, my confidante, the person I shared everything with, didn't understand. She, who had fought her own father to be with the man she loved didn't understand. Couldn't... or maybe she just wouldn't.
She fought with me. We said things to each other that had shocked us both. She said I was being stupid and reckless. I said she was being a bitch who didn't understand anything. We fought, so much that we were both sobbing by the end. She was never one to cry. Monika got angry; she never cried. But when she cried that day, I knew that she felt nothing but concern for me, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew. But the anger and hurt I felt overpowered that. I just wanted to hurt her, like she'd hurt me. I insulted her relationship with her boyfriend. I called her a hypocrite, and said that she and Jeron would never last.
That did it.
The light in her eyes surged into an unforgiving anger that had scared the shit out of me. She towered over me, a 6'2" giant, and spat "You chose a guy you've never met over your best friend. I hope things work out for you, and you don't get raped."
Then she walked away, and left me there, hurt beyond belief. I went home and told my mother. She smiled and shrugged. I guess she thought I was kidding, because when I told her that E.V. was coming up to Canada to visit, her eyes grew wide with shock. She talked to his mother, and they arranged it, and I got ready for his visit. I was so confident that this visit was going to go smoothly. We were going to go to Wonderland together with my friend, Amanda. We were going to have a great time.
It fell apart before my very eyes.
We barely spoke to each other. We barely looked at each other. Maybe it was nerves, I don't know. But a part of me pushed him away because of the disapproval I felt from both sides; his mother, and mine. I never told him that.
He went back home after a few days. I broke up after with him, when my friends told me to. They told me he wasn't good enough and I deserved someone better. My mother told me that I should leave him, because I needed someone more like me. Outgoing, and "unafraid". Someone strong and smart. Someone who wasn't overly sensitive. The stupid part of my brain believed them. The part that held all the laughter and smiles and memories of him was silenced, and the day after he got home, I broke up with him.
God, I felt so shallow and low that day. And everyday after that when I remembered that moment. No amount of crying could erase that feeling of... there's not even a word for it. Even to this day, I don't know if he truly understands how incredibly sorry I am for doing that to him. I can't even begin to understand how he felt. I would've apologized a thousand times over. I would've thrown myself at his feet, and begged for his forgiveness. I wouldn't have wanted to hear him say, "I forgive you." That smile... the one that made my heart flutter, was all I would've wanted to see.
I cried for days. I swore I would never date again. A little dramatic, I admit, even for me, and I'm a theatre freak, but I felt so broken. I told him I didn't love him anymore and that I was ready to date other people, because I wanted him to move on. I wanted him to date, and find another girl. I told my mother to take away my internet, because I couldn't bear another moment thinking about the cursed invention that had caused our meeting in the first place.
My mother never saw how broken I was. I put on a mask for her. Only for her. My friends saw the real me. The girl who didn't smile for months, the one who cried whenever a memory of him resurfaced. Whenever I watched Inuyasha, because that's what his fanfic was based on. I was the girl who hated every moment of living, because I wasn't his anymore. I hated being single. But most of all, I hated not being able to talk to him. He was my excitement, my laughter and smiles. He made me cry sometimes, but I loved him all the more for it. Most importantly, he was my safe harbour. He knew about my past, about the childhood that I was robbed of. He knew why I had to be seventeen when I was really only twelve. He knew of the friends I'd lost to gun-shots and car accidents. He knew it all, and I loved him so much for it.
A year or so passed, and I finally got my internet back. My brothers had convinced my mother to get it again. I installed MSN again. We started talking again, and things were awkward, but I felt them returning to the normal friendship I'd missed so much. We laughed together again, we talked like we were old friends, with no time lost at all. Wounds re-opened, but it didn't hurt like I'd thought it would. It felt... good. Talking to him. Laughing at his nerdy cuteness. Every ounce of love that I'd felt for him, every ounce that I'd worked so hard to bury beneath every other emotion, came roaring up and the strength of it had surprised me. I found myself running home from school everyday to talk to him.
Truth be told, somewhere in the back of my mind, I'd wondered if he'd met someone else. All of that was answered when I had accidentally read an E-mail that he'd sent to Monika on one of my old accounts. He had met someone. A girl named Amanda. She lived in Texas, and he was in love with her.
I was... broken. I mentally beat myself for feeling that way. We weren't together anymore, and he was happy. That, was all I'd ever wanted for him. He deserved every happiness in the world, and I wanted that for him. I wanted him to do nothing but smile, because that's what had happened with me, when we were together. Even when crying, I smiled, because I'd felt so lucky to have him. I'd felt... complete.
Normally, I'm not a jealous person at all, but when I found out about Amanda, jealousy surged through me like some unknown electrical current. I wanted to know what she had that I didn't have. I wanted to know why she was so fucking special. How he fell for her so quickly. What she looked like... If they'd kissed yet. Like the pathetic deuce I was, I ran straight to my diary.
"Life so was so much easier when boys had cooties…
When did everything get so complicated? I fall head over heels in love (again), and I find out that he already has someone. Life can be so retarded sometimes… I've lost all confidence in life. I wish I could just lay down and die. I know I need to get over him, but I can't. I love him; I can't stop loving him. I've been trying, but I can't. Is it fair of me to ask him to choose? Is it fair for me to say, "Choose me…"? Can I really say that without sounding selfish and uncaring? That's not who I am. I love all my friends. I would gladly die for any of them. But for him I would die a thousand times over… I'm pathetic; that's what I am. A stupid insignificant being who can't even control her emotions. A useless girl who can't even overcome a love more than a year old. Why am I jealous of a girl I don't even know? Why do I even care? He's happy. That's all I've ever wanted… but a large part of me wanted him to be happy, with me. That's not too bad, is it? Why the hell can't I get over him?! He's obviously doing a good job of getting over me.
Pick me, choose me. I'll love you forever; I won't ever stop. I haven't stopped. Does she really know you like I do? Have you told her the same things you've told me? Do you whisper that you want to spend your life with her like you used to do with me? You know things even my closest friends don't know. You know my true fears, my real guilty pleasures, you know exactly what makes me laugh and cry. You know about me and my family. I told you everything because I trusted you, and you told me everything because you trusted me. Or was that just some stupid stratagem? Tell me, because I don't understand. I need to understand. I surmise you love her more than life itself. You said so in your email, did you not? She's to you now what I used to be. But you're still the guy who stole my heart so long ago, and I can't, won't forget that. Please remember that when you're looking into her eyes…
I can't get over you. I won't. I absolutely refuse to. I won't give into what others want. This is what I want. I want to continue loving you. So I will. All I need is you… I don't need anything else… I'm falling apart without you...
You're the only person who can put me back together.
I love you.
I miss you..."
When I go back and read that entry, I feel that hurt all over again. Somehow, I've no idea where I got the courage, I told him that I wanted to be with him again, and immediately, I hated myself for putting him in such a horrible position. Looking at the situation and people involved, I look like such a selfish, uncaring person. If that's how people see me, so be it, I can't help that, but no one can really understand what I felt, unless they themselves have felt it, too.
I asked him to choose.
Not in so many words, but he knew he couldn't be with Amanda and myself. I knew that I would never have all of his trust again. And that Amanda would always hold some kind of place in his heart, but I'd claimed it first. Didn't I have a stronger hold?This wasn't about winning him. He's not an object, and I will never look at him that way. I'd convinced myself that no girl could ever love him the way I did, and maybe it's stupid of me, but I still feel that way.
Needless to say, I nearly choked with anticipation. I tried to be patient; I didn't bug him for his answer. I let him take as much time as he needed, and finally, I found out his decision.
He wanted me back.
It was like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. All those wounds healed and I felt like I was on top of the world, and he was right there, holding me in his arms. I was his again, and he was mine. I cried when he asked me to be his again. I never told him that. I never told anyone that I'd cried. At that moment, I knew that everything I felt was genuine. I mean, I'd always known, but at that moment, that feeling was sealed away in my heart.
I told my mother and friends the next day.
My mother didn't hesitate to express her disapproval. She never hesitated. She tried to convince me that it was a phase. I was thinking with my heart, not my head. Well, wasn't that how it was supposed to be? I was supposed to follow my heart, right? I mean, she did. I ignored everything she said. It wasn't her life. It was mine. Mine to plague with my own mistakes and decisions. At the end of the day, it would be me crying or laughing or growling with frustration and anger. Not her.
So we've been together for a year. We got back together in June. Mid-June, 2006. And now it's almost August, 2007. I'm so happy with him, because I know that it's real. It's good, it's bad, but it's real, and that's all that matters. We never fight. Maybe it's because we're not around each other in person, but I think it's because we have absolutely nothing to fight about. ;)
I love him. And he loves me.
Monika understands, finally. I think she realized that it was real, during the months after our break-up, when I was a walking shell. When I wasn't me anymore.
He's going to visit in August. The first weekend in August, and I couldn't be happier. I'm ridiculously nervous, of course, but... so ecstatic that it's actually happening. Obviously there will be problems along the way, like our parents. I still don't think his mother likes me, and mine will always be difficult, and my father, well, he can never know. He'd kill me. But let me just take this moment to completely cheese this up by saying, that our love will withstand anything. It's for real. It's not a phase. Yes, it's all heart, but that's the way it should be. It's not good, it's great. It's thrilling and sexy. ;)
And Erik, it will never pass. I truly, genuinely, love, love, LOVE, you madly.
Your Kitty :)
Hmm... I'm a bit embarassed by this. Tell me what you think? I'd like to hear your thoughts. (As usual, reviews make my friend Kyle happy in his pants). :D