I’m a proud person who doesn’t want anyone but I need them. I need him. 

When I talk about a “he or him” it’s the same person that I’ve been holding onto for five years. I have had connections with men before him and after him but nothing ever came of it. Mostly I wonder if I’m holding on because I’m not sure of what could’ve been or what was. You see I was young and more insecure than I am now and he was younger and for some reason that mattered to me. 

I was never anyone’s choice at love or friendship, so I decided to put myself out of the game at a young age to not let anybody get close enough to hurt me. While I was pushing him away I was loving him more than I ever loved any other person. The people I loved the most moved away, died, or just plain never loved me back. So in all my life I’ve been looking for love and guarding my heart.

 When I met him I was already so damaged, I didn’t know if I could love anybody and then he was. I found magnificent connection with him that I never found with any other. Soon after getting to know him it became common knowledge he was moving away in a few months to pursue a dream. I was 20 years old in love with a 19-year-old who’s going into the Navy, who’s leaving me behind like everyone else has. So what do I do.? I decided I would just be his friend while he was working with me and then that would be enough for me because there is no point in trying to be more than that with him because he was leaving. 

The problem is, the more I was trying to be his friend, the more I was getting to know him, the more I liked him and his smile when he’d smile and how charismatic and just animated he was. He was different from other people in so many ways than one.

You see when I liked somebody, I tried to picture us together and usually I couldn’t ever. He would tell stories about his grandparents that worked at the Renaissance Festival every year and his mom who was a bodybuilder and his friend who he was roommates with how they just acted stupid together all the time and I could see myself there with him, with them. It felt right, it never felt right. That had never happened before or since him.

The more I got to know him the more I liked him, the more jealous I became at all the girls around him, the more angry I became that I didn’t have more time with him, the more sad I became because I actually liked him, even though I tried hard not to, the more I was mean and pushed him away…

I kept quiet about my feelings. I didn’t want to show any pain or emotion. I’m a proud person who doesn’t want anyone but I need them. I need him. 

I hope almost every day that I get to see you again and that we will have a chance again and that I’ll say everything I ever wanted to say or felt without being proud and insecure because being proud and insecure has just left me empty these last five years. 


The Nothing We Had.

I’m thinking of you today. I don’t know why but every once in a while I will get this longing for you. And it feels like I can’t stand another minute without seeing your face. My heart aches. It has been silence for years. I have let you go, at least I think I have most days. Then there are days like today when no matter how hard I try I can’t get you off my mind. I like to think you are somewhere thinking of me and we are connected so until you stop, I can’t stop. But that’s not true is it? I broke my own heart waiting for you. I broke my own heart staying silent all this time. I’m beginning to realize “true love isn’t for girls like me”. But for now I’m doing my best to let go of the nothing we had.

Part 2

JAN. 1, 2013

Maybe it was look in his eyes that made me fall for him; the ever changing hazel, the way they shone in the sunlight.  The day I noticed they were mostly green; one moment we were having one of our many random conversations while working and the next moment everything seemed to go mute around me and I was frozen just staring at his eyes. If I blinked I didn’t notice. What he was saying, I have no clue.  But his forest green eyes with brown around the pupil will forever be engraved in my memory as the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. ( and I stupidly told him before I hated colorful eyes)
It’s amazing how quickly a stranger can become important to you…
Every time I saw him we’d exchange our stories about what we’d done on the days we didn’t see each other. Honestly, I looked forward to those stupid stories. Even though I told him differently, I loved the fact that he talked a lot because I liked to hear his voice. Why didn’t I tell him that? I tried my best to not let him be important to me; I insisted that once he left, I would forget him. I tried to make it noticeable that I didn’t care; every time he brought up leaving, I would shrug and smile, shaking my head. Why did I do that? Why didn’t I say what I felt when I felt it? I said I’d miss him a few times, but only jokingly. Why did I do that? You know to this day I still cant listen to a few songs on my iPod anymore; whenever I hear  Coldplay’s “The Scientist,” The Steel Drivers’ “If it Hadn’t Been for Love,” Frans Ferdand’s “Take Me Out, or Johnny Cash’s “Burning Ring of Fire,” I skip them as fast as I can. Why? Because all I do is remember him singing them or doing a hilarious dance to them. Every time ‘I Like Big Butts’ by Sir Mix Alot comes on I want to cry; I go in an instant depression from the corniest ever song made and it’s all because of him.

I still don’t know what his feelings were for me…maybe he never liked me and I was just someone he had to put up with.  But I do know the look on his face the day he brought up again that he was leaving for the navy in a week and I, in an aggravated state of mind, told him, “It’s okay because it only feels like I’ve only known you for a week anyway.” (I’m the asshole.)  You can’t fake the expression of hurt the showed on his face, like I had stepped on his heart. I instantly regretted it, but I never told him any different.  After months of getting to know him, of sharing my happiness, of joint iPod ownership (during work) with this amazing person I didn’t know could even really exist, we said a good bye in passing and I stopped myself from daring to look back.

I, in my entire life have never attached myself to someone so accidentally and completely.  But I suppose the moral of this story is that if you care for someone, tell them. Tell them the moment you know because otherwise the moment just slips away. Trust me, you don’t want to have to deal with the regret of never speaking up or believing the sad hope that one day you’ll see him walking down the parking lot toward you again…

“Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around….”-Bob Marley

Part 1

JAN. 1, 2013

I’m sure we have all lived or heard a version of this story billions of times, be it through books, movies, music, or close friends. I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I feel as though this story of meeting and losing my first love needs to be known. Even if it is only read by one person I will be happy. Contrary to popular belief amongst my family, I am neither lesbian nor a prude. [For the record there is nothing wrong with being exactly who you are. Shame on you for bashing someone for being true, especially if you are reading a “Sacred Book” that has been LOST IN TRANSLATION for 3500 years.] I am only a fearful, chubby lady. The way I deal with men liking me is this: I never know if they do. I’m sort of clueless. I just assume nobody likes me. I’ve convinced myself that they couldn’t or wouldn’t ever like me; that all I am to them is a quiet, funny girl, with average looks and blue eyes. But back to my first love: I met him in July 2012 and the funniest thing is that at the time I wholeheartedly believed I had a type and that he wasn’t it. What I thought was my type was a ruggedly handsome man with dark brown eyes that were almost black; he would be tall, a good six feet, with tan skin and broad shoulders. (I read too many romance novels.) The man I fell for did not fit this description and I was one hundred percent okay with that, because he was better.

The first time I saw his face was when he was having an interview for a position at the fuel center where I worked. I was sitting across the room from him in the manager’s office pretending to be paying attention to a quiz, but I was watching his interview like a hawk. At first sight I thought, “GREAT! (sarcasm) Some cute faced, rich looking, frat boy with hair that swoops down in front of his eyes. I have to work with this?” I thought, “He’d better not be a pain in my ass!”(and he was, but I loved it.)

The second time I saw his face was up close, so close that there were only two inches of bulletproof glass in between us. With curiosity and intrigue, I watched him and his friend cross the parking lot; it was already dark outside and the fuel station was empty for the most part. I was reading a book “My Name Is Memory” by Ann Brashares. [it was fairly ironic because his will never fade from mine.] Once he made it to the window, I pretended that I was reading, so when I looked up I made a surprised face as though I was so focused on the book in front of me that I forgot where I was altogether. But I couldn’t fake the surprise I had when I saw his face: his face was kind, he did not look like an asshole, his shy smile was nice and refreshing, he was so polite and it was off putting because he was not what I expected him to be and did I mention he smelled fabulous? I liked him instantly because he seemed so sincere when he said, “Have a good night” (what a stupid reason to like someone, right?).

The week that followed was his training and I agreed to train him because I wanted to see if the person I thought I met a few nights before was real or just a very good day dream. He was real and there was a real awkward vibe. Like me, he takes a while to get used to people. So every time I tried to start a conversation or joked around he would look at me with this serious face like I wasn’t speaking English and he was trying really hard to figure me out. Anyway, I was becoming a little irritated..until one fateful day when something changed; he started talking to me and making me laugh and saying things that shook me. He wasn’t flirting or lying or playing a game, he was being himself, saying what was on his mind. It NEVER occurred to me that there was a guy out there who thought the same things I did in the same way I did. He would say things that I would never speak out loud or things I couldn’t find the words for. I had become so used to men that are a real “man’s, man.” Men that only think about sex, beautiful women, cars, and fishing all the time, men who reflect those thoughts in everything they do. I’m not saying he didn’t think about women or sex (he is a straight male after all). Maybe it was different because who he was resonated with my soul.

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: “What! You too? I thought that I was the only one . . .””

— C.S. Lewis (The Four Loves)