October 2008

The Story of Us Pt. 1
(a part of a look at the past)

Nothing happened at first. Months passed, actually. I continued dating my boyfriend, but I truly liked Josh. As time went on, Josh and I became good friends, though I was extremely shy around him. He was two years older than I was–I had no idea how to act when I was near him. He was a mystery within himself, though, and it was hard for me to decipher who he was. As his graduation grew nearer, I became more aware of my feelings for him, and I felt as if I had to end my relationship with my boyfriend. So I did. Not easily, though.

Summer began. Josh and I, along with two of our friends, began hanging out. That’s when things became difficult, though. I knew Josh liked me, but I didn’t know how much; and I knew we couldn’t have a relationship because he had a fear of relationships at the time. When I least expected it, Josh would disappear from me for weeks at a time. During those weeks, I would date other boys (including my previous boyfriend who eventually stopped talking to me completely for ending our relationship for a second time; only recently did he forgive me for “breaking his heart”). It seemed like as soon as I would date someone else, Josh would reappear, and I would rethink my feelings for him. Then just like that, he would disappear. I hated it, and I would disappear too. I actually only dated a couple boys during that time, but the relationships hurt me more than they hurt Josh–which was what I childishly wanted them to do.

Though we were constantly in and out of each other’s lives, we considered ourselves best friends. We had never even hung out alone together (until after my junior year in high school), but we felt a connection. I knew I’d marry him someday. I’d have to. There were times when he thought so too.

One night, he called me while he was intoxicated. He had called me maybe once before, so it was out of the ordinary. He had disappeared again, so it was unexpected to have him call. He confessed his love to me, and I just agreed, saying “okay” because I thought it could have been the alcohol talking–he assured me it wasn’t. “Will you still marry me someday?” I said yes, that I would. That wasn’t the first time we said we loved each other before we had even dated. He made sure I knew that it was a different kind of love, though. Something he couldn’t define. A bigger sort of love.

We started to spend time together, and as we did, we grew closer. I turned eighteen, and a month later, Josh sent me a text asking if I was his girlfriend. I was in complete shock. I guess I was, we decided. And that was that. We finally, after a couple years of back and forth, committed to one another. We moved in together about eight months after that. Now, here we are. Married. Best friends, still. No more back and forth.

Josh always tells me that I saved him; but it’s hard for him to believe that, in more ways than one, he saved me.

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(a part of a look at the past)

Before I met Josh, I was dating a boy. I met said boy my freshman year of high school and we fell into a puppy love of sorts. It wasn’t a mature sort of love, though we thought it was at the time. Of course. The summer before my sophomore year, my granny was diagnosed with lung cancer, so my family and I moved back to Florida to be with her, leaving my boyfriend behind. We were unsure of what would happen. I was selfishly devastated. My world was ending–not because my grandmother was dying but because I had to leave all of my friends and the love of my life. I was a selfish fifteen-year-old girl. I find it amusing now–I was barely older than my almost-thirteen-year-old brother, and I actually thought I was in love, a love that would last forever. But I digress.

As I watched Granny become worse each day–as I watched her skin become paler and her moods change–I wished for something to happen that would take me back home. And then it did. My best friend, my granny passed away on August 6, 2004. It wasn’t what I wanted to happen. But it did, and there was no changing it. Just barely three months after the diagnosis, she was gone. And I was lost.

I started my sophomore year; however I rebelled in a way that only hurt me more. Any time someone tried to befriend me, I was cold toward them. I reluctantly made two friends who, no matter how hard I tried, would not leave me be. But that was okay, I guessed. I made straight As, going home right after school and doing my homework. I stopped eating as much, and any time I did eat, I became sick. I hid myself away from my family, locked away in my room while I talked on the phone to my boyfriend. But life kept moving. The silence and sadness around me started to turn into a laugh here, a smile there. From everyone else, of course. I felt like they were all changing, but I wasn’t. At least I thought I wasn’t.

I used to write at xanga.com. I had written there while I was in Florida, and I suppose this other boy had been reading for some time. Eventually, when I wrote about coming home soon, he commented saying he was glad I was finally coming home so that I could be happy. I didn’t even know this boy, and he was saying he wanted me to be happy. It was a change. An unknown change.

February 20, 2005. I finally came home. As soon as I got home, I went to see my boyfriend. He asked if he could hug me. Things felt different. I was disappointed, and in that instant, I knew everything had changed. I grew up; I moved beyond puppy love because I saw life and death happen right before my eyes. I tried to act as if everything were normal, but it wasn’t. But I pretended. And then I met Josh. I went to school the next day, and he was in my sixth period class. At first, I didn’t even know that he was the boy who had wanted me to be happy. He knew who I was, but he let me find out on my own. And before I knew it, I was in love.

(to be continued)

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