I haven't shared this story before on this blog, really.
And the reason I am is because I'm ready to tell it as a simple story. I'm not wishing for a different ending. I'm not ashamed or embarrassed or worried who might read it. I'm telling it because it's a large part of what made me, me. I feel like the story explains much of how I've come to the resolves I have.
For the sake of his privacy, we'll give him the obvious codename "James."
I went to my 8th grade graduation dance. For the sake of length, I won't go into details. It's sufficient to say that I realized I had deep Junior High feelings for James.
And... these feelings continued. For a very, very, very long time.
All through 9th grade, I tried to sit by him as much as I could. To be his friend. To talk with him. I thought he was the most perfect person I could ever imagine. I was, to put it in a word, annoying. Every little thing he said to me I would treasure. If he didn't talk to me, my mood would completely change. My happiness depended on one or two words a day.
You don't have to tell me I was pathetic, trust me, I know.
I've got ten million stories I could tell you. The first time we danced, all the nice things he said to me, our emails, his birthday party. I have hundreds of instances that I convinced myself actually meant something.
And it went on.
Sophomore year came. Same thing happened. Then I announced I was moving to NZ. He said he would miss me. He asked me to dance at the last dance I went to, and I felt as if the world were standing still. That night he gave me a two second long hug. Special, huh?
While I was out of the country, I talked to James more than I talked to anyone else. I cannot tell you how many hours I spent on the computer, waiting for him to get on, talking to him, wishing he would start a conversation with me. From a whole different continent he dominated my life. He was all I thought about. I was, in two words, annoying and obsessed.
I moved home and things went well for a little while. We were friends. We'd text until late into the night. I thought it was love. I thought he felt the same way, at least a little. We never told each other how we felt. We just knew. I was, in three words, annoying, obsessed, and delusional.
If you couldn't tell, it wasn't a proud time for me.
But for some reason, I thought it was meant to be. I know this makes it sound like the whole thing was made up, but at the time it didn't seem like it. He was one of my closest friends. Someone who I loved to talk to. It's not like he was running away from me the whole time. We really were friends. But things change.
Then things fell apart. He stopped talking to me. Do I know exactly what happened? Nope. Did I ever try to talk to him about it? Oh, yes. I literally cornered him in doorways. In the climactic finale, I asked him for a minute of his time. I had memorized a short paragraph that I wanted to say to him, for "closure." Really, I wanted him to apologize, to tell me he cared. Instead he looked at me with cold, cold eyes and said "No." He wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't let me speak for thirty seconds. Needless to say I was distraught.
So my unrequited love continued for months, and months, and months.
Every song was James.
Every room I walked into, I looked for him.
Every time my phone vibrated, I prayed it was him.
It never, ever was.
We didn't talk. Once in a while I would say a word or two to him, and his response would change my week. If he smiled at me I would melt.
It continued, and then one day I was invited to have some apple pie. And that was the start of another story.
My unrequited love didn't die in a moment, unrequited love rarely does.
But I finally came to the end of the story.
No, there wasn't an "And then lived happily ever after." At least not with James.
We never made up and he never talked to me about what happened. I still don't know.
The reason I'm writing this is simple: So I can confidently say: it does end. If you're stuck on a boy who will never give you the time of day: good news. There is someone out there who will think you are the world.
If you think it can never get better than that boy: it does get better! There is someone who is better for you.
If you think that your heart will never mend, that it will always belong to him: The heart mends. It gets stronger. You come out a better person.
How do I know this? Because I can listen to Coldplay without my heart hurting. Because I can read my journal entries and laugh at myself. Because I can look at James and see a friend.
Life goes on, and things become greater than you even imagined.