What He Said Before I Said
“It would be outrageously stupid for you to write a book about somebody who broke your heart. You are only 16- hell, you haven’t even turned 16 yet and you are fully committed to ruining his life by slandering his name. What the hell did he do to you?”
He compared me to a tornado. Said that every time I made an appearance in his life I messed “things” up, that I mixed up his emotions and his thoughts and made quick movement of drawing all of his attention. It wasn’t until he claimed this that I admitted it myself as well. I was a tornado. Every time I made the journey to face him eye-to-eye I was subconsciously sabotaging him to pay attention to me; regardless of if he wanted to. It took almost two years for my subconscious to finally succumb to my questionings of it and I realized. I had been asking for something that I wasn’t going to get. Two years after standing next to him, staring at his shoes and then everybody else’s; two years filled with obsessing over how I presented myself in front of him and if my makeup was smeared. It doesn’t affect me as much as it used to that I spent 1/8th of my life worrying about every little action my brain talked me into, every inch I moved towards him, where my hands drifted and where his did as well. I’ve stopped trying to remember what we did to cause these chains of events. All I know is that it did happen and unfortunately, if I didn’t write this, it might just happen again.
Maybe sometime in the future we’ll find each other and be together