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Lost love by 16-year-old woman After my lover for a year left, my world seemed to shake, threatening to collapse upon me. What had started out as an innocent high school crush between two shy individuals, blossomed, as both of us opened up, and bared our souls to one another. Those joyous days seemed to fly past without my noticing; for only now, am I really aware of how much I actually possessed. Now that it is missing. Only now do I see the signs of trouble that led to our relationship's inevitable demise. We were foolish in our youthful arrogance. I expected my first love to be my soulmate in every sense of the word. Even though we desired different things from our visions of an ideal relationship, I expected him to conform to my idea of perfection. Troubles began to brew, and storms ravaged our fragile alliance. We broke up repeatedly, only to get back together a few days later, desperate for the other half of ourselves we've grown so accustomed to. Each time, however, our love diminished slightly; our dedication and drive to make the relationship work faltered. During the last three to four months of our relationship, I was troubled by a change I noticed within myself. I did not feel as strongly for him as I once did. At first, I turned the blame on him, for acting more distant towards me-- surely, if he would only be more loving, I would be able to reciprocate it with no trouble. That was not to be. Skipping the lengthy, painful details of our relationship's conclusion, I will pick up the tale two weeks after our breakup: a phone conversation, which opened my eyes. I was feeling pretty close to suicidal, and desperately needed to talk to someone... anyone... I called him. Perhaps it was the magnitude of such a situation that neither of us had ever faced... perhaps it was the lingering emotions both of us still held... as my tears slowed, and my mind cleared, I found myself in the midst of an intimate conversation that would not have been possible through any other means. And that was how I found out about his side of the story... About three fourths of the way through our relationship, he was feeling the same way I was - suicidal. Why? I blamed him because our relationship wasn't going well (i.e. he wasn't perfect), and so did he. Guilt overwhelmed me for not having noticed the signs; for pushing him so hard at a time when he couldn't possibly have measured up, no matter how much he tried. He has always been a closed off person; and, although he had enough friends to "talk" to, no one really knew him, except for me. Apparently, he got through that time of turmoil all by himself; no one knew, no one even suspected. I had always thought of myself as a perceptive individual, capable of picking up the subtlest of emotions... my arrogance shattered. Who was I judge and label him as undevoted and lazy? What gave me the right to expect so much from him, when he didn't even want to trouble me with his own suicidal tendencies, for fear that would make me even more displeased? I inwardly sigh at the complexity of life that I never knew existed. I wonder how many other of my peers have gone through similar situations with plastic smiles on their faces, deceiving me into thinking them shallow. The weeks pass... it has now been a month since I last held him in my arms, uncertain of my own feelings. I can't help but hate him for ending the relationship, even though it was probably the decision better for both of us. I curse him for not giving *me* more of a chance to prove myself; I curse him for losing his love for me... Time is a panacea, others tell me. My only choice is to let him go. And yet, I wonder what could've been, as he once mentioned- "heaven on the horizon." Were we ever really in love? Did we really have a chance to reach the horizon? Questions, which will never be answered, whose importance will no doubt, fade as the days roll past. There's no turning back. Top of page Webmaster: wulff@ratatosk.net |