We Know Better

Get a Hold of Yourself

Quote in the picture is from Uma Thurman

~

We had known each other for a while. We were never close. In elementary school, he dated what had been my "best friend" and I dated his. Granted, we were like nine years old, so it did not amount to much in the grand scheme. Though, that elementary school relationship still stands as my longest lasting romantic relationship to date. From fourth to sixth grade, it was a good one too, until middle school of course.

For everyone, middle school changes just about everything; whether you are the one doing to changing or everyone else around you is. I was one of the ones who changed, more accurately I became aware. I realized that the people I was friends with had little in common with me, that I had issues communicating which largely due to social anxiety, and that I was not just a "sensitive" little girl. It was not until much later that vocabulary like depression and dissociation would be attached to my everyday life.

So, when you add all that up and fling me into middle school what manifests is a ten-year-old girl who is too afraid to approach the table that her boyfriend sits at with all of his new friends. As you can tell, the relationship fizzled. I did not see him as much anymore and eventually my "best friend" did the work of breaking up with me in his stead, and then, for no reason other than growing apart, we truly did not really speak after that so it was like she was breaking up with me, too. And that, is the peril of middle school romance.

The following year, I took to crushing on this kid in my seventh-grade class. He seemed mysterious and enigmatic. I kept tabs on him throughout the years, fueling a gentle infatuation until my junior year of high school. Being pathetic and unrequited love was kind of my thing. It wasn't until Valentine's Day that I finally did something about my crush on him. I put together a candy bag and wrote a love letter that spelled out my feelings. The whole next week, he was coincidentally absent from every single class period we shared. I tried not to take it too hard and move on.

Nearly three months later, he kid approached me and asked if I wanted to talk. After verbal vomiting on him and tripping over every word I spoke, I gave him my number and that was the start of our "relationship." We saw each other at lunches and we hung out a total of three times over the summer.

He represented everything I never wanted in a relationship: he had just gotten out of one of his own meaning I was the rebound, he was moving soon meaning that if we stayed together it would be long distance, he was from a family of conservative military , and most of all he was cold.

My anxiety flared with him. I never knew what to do or what to say, I could never read him, or understand what he was thinking. I did like kissing him though. Kissing him on his couch with the room dark except for the glow of the tv is, at least, something to hold onto.

Eventually, he did move, about a month into our senior year. When he left, he did it without a single word to me. The only way that I found out was when I went by his house one evening and it was dark with no cars were in the driveway. I took that as a break up.

And that is how I end up here: two weeks later and feeling abandoned.

As I sit at the lunch table with my friends, I am aware of how many conversations are going on around me that I am not a part of and I have to push down the sick feeling in my stomach. I put my head down on my arms that are crossed over my binder. I am thankful for the fact that I have early release today, because then I can just go home. I would normally say we could go home, but I can hear my best friend Alessa next to me making plans with another friend of ours who has early release as well.

My stomach twists some more as I push the nagging question in my head back: why aren't you invited. I do not know. When they work it all out she turns to me and tells me that she does not need a ride home, because she is going to go hang out with Jon. I respond with a simple "'kay" and then I feel bad for sounding so short with her. I am not sure if she even notices.