I used to be in love with a boy, no surprise there for a 14 year old girl. Well I thought I was in love, but what is love? A chemical reaction of the brain? An instinct? An attraction? Love is what we want it to be.
Sometimes I think I get too deep in my own imagination, as
if I have dived straight into myself, searching for something that I don't have
the slightest clue as to what it may be. I think I was looking for someone to
love though, because how else did I imagine this wonderful person where they
weren't. I simply fell in love with my own imagination. I think that is why I
have let go so easily, because I know now that I didn't really love him, just
the idea. Ideas are terrible things. They take over your body and mind, make
you do stupid things. They nestle themselves deep within you, causing yourself
to go mad. An idea, unlike many things cannot be stopped, just subdued.
My friend asked me why I was not angry at this boy who
temporarily broke my heart. Why I did not hate him and shout ugly things, for
he was the bad guy, and I treated him as if he was the one that had charged in
on a white steed, silver armour glimmering in the sunlight, and saved the
damsel and the kingdom with a single strike of his sword. That of course is not
true. I didn't treat him that way. The truth is he was neither a good guy nor
bad guy. None of us were the good guys, there are no good guys and bad guys in
that situation, and there is just love. Love that was being thrown around so
easily that of course someone was going to be hurt.
I was the one that got hurt though. At the time I was definitely
sad. I cared a lot about him, but the truth is I may have known about him, but
I didn't know who he was. I knew what his favourite colour was and what team he
supported and his favourite food and all those pointless little things that
teachers normally ask the class on the first day as to help them all to make
friends by finding things in common, but he rarely opened up to me. Every now
and then he would be upset and angry at his dad or step mum or siblings and
would vent to me but that was a very rare thing indeed.
I used to think that I wouldn't be able to cope without him.
I thought of him as a detox and someone that would make me happy even when I’m
sad, but since things went ugly and we don't talk anymore, there has been this
strange feeling of enlightenment and as if some sort of weight has been lifted
off my shoulders.
I knew he would hurt me and that I would cry over him, but
rose coloured glasses have just happened to become my favourite accessory,
whether I want them to be or not. I don't mind that this boy is no longer in my
life. I will find someone one day and I
knew it wasn't going to be him and that he would hurt me in the end but you can
always hope.
