Heartbreak

Things had been unraveling for weeks. Honestly, I should have known from the beginning that it wasn’t going to work. He was too diffident. Too closed off. Too mysterious. Too punk rock. Too sophisticated. Too immature. He was the very embodiment of enigma but to my young mind it was that very fact that made him so alluring.

Oh! How I wanted him.

It all started innocently enough. We were both involved heavily in the music department. He had a band, mostly punk rock. He sang a cover of the Captain Planet theme song that made you admit that you did know the words to that song, and scream them at the top of your lungs, hoping he’d glance your way. He wasn’t attractive in the traditional sense. It was really more about his attitude, his aura – he was sexy. I recognized that despite the fact that I hardly knew what sexy was at that time. It didn’t matter. I’ll admit it: I was a little bit obsessed.

I can’t quite remember exactly when we became exclusive. Did we kiss first, and commit later? Did he ask me out? I’m fuzzy on the timeline. I was a Junior in High School – 17 years old, old for my grade, I fancied myself more mature. I was as foolish and as vulnerable as any other young girl in love.  We were dating during the school musical, I spent rehearsals sitting in his lap in the darkened auditorium, or clinging to his side while he entertained us with his guitar. I think it was Fiddler on the Roof that year. During the first few rehearsals, we flirted. He and his best friend both courted me, flirted with me, vying for my attention and it made my head spin. I felt so powerful, and seductive, and powerful.

I chose him because it felt like electricity every time he touched me. I chose him because his breath on my ear, as he leaned in to whisper witty cynicisms I could hardly comprehend, made my spine shiver and sent my insides churning.

He wrote me poems, taping them to the inside of my locker, folded in perfect little football triangles. I don’t have them anymore. My favorite was about a caged bird who wanted to be set free to sing, a caged bird who had the power to leave her cage but didn’t because she thought she could do it tomorrow, but tomorrow would never come. He gave me that poem and a necklace, a little silver key. It was simple – cheap, even. I treasured it like nothing else I’d ever owned.

I gave him my memory books – blank notebooks that I wrote in throughout the day, jotting down anything that poppped into my head, be it doodle or words or song lyrics. It was a peek into my self. I let him have them, I let him have me, my essence.

Ultimately though, he gave me nothing. He wrote me poems about what was wrong with me in beautiful verse. He gave me symbolic gifts that urged me to change. He gave me nothing of himself. To this day I know very little about him and his life, but he knew everything about me. It was too much, I couldn’t sustain it.  I couldn’t give everything and receive nothing in return. I loved him, I needed to know more of him than his favorite foods or his vocal range.

I can’t remember which of us broke it off. I remember walking down the hallway in that god-forsaken high school and passing him a note. I remember the crushing weight of my sadness on my chest making it hard to breathe. I remember him saying Goodbye. I remember the way he smelled. I remember the way he walked.

I remember riding home on the bus in a fog. I got off at my stop. I started to walk down our little dead end road. I took 10, maybe 15 steps before I broke down. I clutched the necklace he had given me, my key to happiness, and it seemed to burn my hand. I dug my fingers into my palm with this little key curled inside my angry fist and I wanted to draw blood. I stayed there, kneeling on the ground, broken, for a long while.

Finally, I rose. I took the necklace off and threw it into the woods. I went home. I did homework. I talked to a few friends. I went to sleep. I got up and I got through the next day, and the next day, and the next.

It was hard. I was heartbroken. I thought I had known love, and it was ripped away from me. I thought I might never love again.

Thankfully, I was wrong.

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This post is part of Girl Talk Thursday, which is one of my favorite things ever Want to share a story about love or heartbreak? Join in on the fun! You don’t have to post on Thursday, just post before next Thursday! And don’t forget to visit the other participants!