The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had. .

Yeah, I'm ripping off Mad World. Eight years of unrequited love is what that song means to me. I guess it's something you can't ever understand unless you've gone through it. I'm going to try to be creative and turn this into an expressive story, but I've never excelled at this, so don't be too mean =]

So lets start from the beginning, when I met her. I was in freshman in high school, and it during the second week of honors english. Until then, the seating chart was a free for all, so it became an accursed fate she sat right behind me when order was initiated. I remember seeing her like yesterday. I remember her clothes, her hair, the way she smelled, the way she laughed, and her eyes. I've never seen such beautiful fierce blue eyes. They were complimented by the most settling of smiles. I passed her a piece of paper, and our hands touched, and I was gone.

About a week went by and I worked up the courage to talk to Her. Her voice was beautiful. And we made each other laugh. We only talked briefly the first time, but we talked more before and after class. We began to chat outside of class, and exchange text messages. It was back before everyone had an unlimited everything plan, Her budget phone plan only allowed about fifty texts per month, so it made the messages seem more special, especially when She used them all up on me during the first of the month.

Our friendship only grew closer. She was my best friend by junior and senior year. Her and my buddy John. We did everything together. Took mostly the same classes, skipped the same classes, ate dinner at each other's houses, watched crappy movies and mocked them together, and hung out almost every night and on the weekends.

Heres the part I didn't mention - I had a girlfriend during my junior and most of my senior year in High School. Her name (changed for reasons soon to be obvious) was Miha. Miha had a crush on me, and since I wasn't getting anywhere with Her, I decided to go on a few dates with Miha. I liked her very much. This liking eventually grew into love. Great love, but not the kind of love I felt for Her. That was the special kind that I knew, even as a naive freshman, would always, unconditionally, be there.

But back to Miha, she was the fourth girlfriend in my life. The previous three were not so serious. Couple months here, couple months there, four weeks for one. Ours lasted from summer before junior year, until may of senior year. Near the end, we fought all the time. And for once, it was me. I was hostile and defensive about everything. I wasn't satisfied with Miha, and I also fell myself falling even harder for Her, if that was even possible, so I knew it wasn't fair to Miha to be this absentee boyfriend, so I left her, under the pretense of a fight she started.

So I was single, but not really. I was committed to a woman who had little to no romantic interest in me. I was her friend, nothing more. Looking back, maybe not even her best friend, which is what she was to me. It's sad but true, we build up these memories to seem grander than they really were, but the harsh truth is reality is bitter, and these upbeat memories we have are only reconstructed by our minds to avoid that nothingness we would normally feel. But I still pressed on. Committed to being her friend, and making her laugh, and smile, and still look past me. She was dating at the time too. I disliked the boyfriend, which is only normal. His name was Jake. He seemed just like the guy she "should" go out with. His characteristics were nothing but generic: taller, soft white face, blonde hair, blue eyes, a christian, and dressed as if his mother picked out his clothes each morning. He was of average intelligence, and carried on rather droll conversation, but she thought she loved him. She broke up him after about nine months. According to her, their conversation just ran out, and it was becoming droll. I thought, "How can you not see me, our conversation has carried these past four years!" But I kept it to myself. Summer was approaching and I figured I'd have plenty of chances. Nope.

So, as predicted, school ended and summer rolled around. I regret not asking her to prom, because we were both single, and it would've been seemingly innocent enough, but no, she actually asked a younger friend of mine named Cory. Looking back that really hurt me. Especially because both me and John were single and were close enough to her it seemed to merit an invitation if she wanted to go, or at least some consideration. Maybe, I don't know. I wasn't privy to her decision making paradigm. based on the outcome I'm going to have to guess it was flawed.

But summer was here, and it was lovely. Buffalo gets a bad rap for winters, but our summers are some of the best in the country. Lovely temperatures, with lots of sun and little clouds. Rain seems to know to only come at night, its remarkable. So we hung out more, and more. It was wonderful, until about a few weeks in she left for a mission trip, in South Africa. I missed her every day. I had no way of contacting her for a month and a half. Each day felt as long as a year without her.

But the time passed, and she came home. Thus began the boldest movement I've taken in our relationship - I asked her out on a date. I said, "Would you like to go on a date with me? Get some food, perhaps see a movie?" To which she enthusiastically said yes. My excitement at the time was soon met with the knowledge she didn't know what I meant.

I picked her up around six, heading out to a nice italian restaurant. In my excitement, I asked her all about her trip. She gave me so many details, and then she said she had a surprise for me. Confused, I asked what, and she said she wanted to wait until dinner to tell me, but she was so excited she told me she got back together with Jake. Apparently she thought I was suppose to be excited to, so I put on a pretend smile, ate dinner, and faked an illness to get myself home. I then spent the next 12 hours with my friend John drinking ourselves to sleep. Not before I drunkenly made the biggest mistake of my life. I was chatting online with a friend named Joelle who i told that She had gotten back together with Jake. Joelle correctly guessed I liked Her, and I drunkenly said I loved Her. Well, that spread like wildfire, thankfully i heard none of it, but everyone else seemed to know it, especially Her. Things were a bit different since then. We grew out of contact a bit, only talking via text and internet communications. It was hard on me not seeing her face. Which brings me to the next part of the story - her going to school abroad.

She left for England, and i didn't even get to say goodbye. While there, we wrote letters, good old fashioned hand written letters. She said she loved them, and the fact they were hand written made her happy. They were my reason for existing. Getting another letter in the mail was my ecstasy. I always signed them, love, and she always signed them love. I know now to Her it was innocuous as saying I love you to a brother or family member, but at the time, it made my heart leap, and my body feel weightless.

Then I wanted to try something. It was desperate, and foolish, but I poured my heart out in a journal style formatting on a social networking site. I set the privacy restrictions so only She could see it. I waited then. Weeks later the time came, she read it, and we talked about it via letter. I scolded her for reading it, even though thats what I really wanted, because I was really immature, and then I talked about how I felt, and how I wanted to be together. She returned the scolding, with saying, I'm paraphrasing of course, it never happened, it won't, stop thinking about it. Another body blow, another night of alcohol induced sleep.

We still talked after that, I thought maybe i'd just rectify the situation by being Her best friend again. She came home from England though, and we didn't even see each other. I asked a few times, and I got the cold shoulder. She called me the last night for a ride to the airport. Better than nothing, at least I could see her face for the first time in a year. We rode back, laughing and talking, singing some stupid song on the radio. She left in a hurry when we got there.

I don't remember when, but she left Jake at some point, for the same reasons as before. I wasn't really privy to this inside information any more. So she left Jake, and began dating Chase while in England. I said nothing aside from my congratulations on being happy stuff. I felt like giving up, so I did for a while. I just loved her from afar. But I deleted Her, Her boyfriend, and every one from Her family off my social network site, and not only deleted them, but blocked me so we couldn't see each other. This was three years ago. For three years we didn't talk. I thought it would help me forget about her and move on. Doesn't help much when you think of her every single day.

Re-enter Miha. Two years ago I ran into Miha at a party. We hung out the whole night, and had...relations at some point. We hung out more after that, and then we started seeing each other regularly. I thought dating her again might help me get past Her. Nope. I fell back into the same love I was in before. I love Miha, but I'm in love with Her. Except me and Miha are still dating to this day, and she's my best friend. She lives with me, and over the course of dating her, I've alienated a good chunk of my friend base, and the rest have moved, or moved on so she's the only friend I have local here, right now. And she lives with me. I've dug myself a huge hole as a result of my own stupidity.

So here I am, in love with a girl I can't have, and I love a girl who makes me happy, and is always fun to be around. Miha is my best friend.

The worst time is car rides though. I can't seem to drive without spending every second thinking about every ride me and Her took together. Every place we've been in that crappy car.

Anywho from what I know, She left Chase, and is back again with Jake. They're happy and she told me she wants to marry him. I'm much better with drinking to fall asleep, but that night was a weak moment. Glenlivet sang me a lullaby, and to sleep I went.

Someday I'll get over her, I pray, or I'll find someone else. Point is I live with this every day. It hurts, to the point of where I don't feel reason in life any more. I've become a cynic for love, and a cynic for happiness. It's created a cold, bitter person out of me, who has suppressed his closet romantic side to the point I don't think it exists. The only time its evident is when I talk to Her, it just jumps back out and makes itself present. Front and center. Oh well.

I think my biggest regret to the day, is never having told Her how I feel in person, the right, and proper way.

Here's to life.
sternbergstheory sternbergstheory
22-25, M
Nov 27, 2012