The blankets of which I hid under wrapped around my figure like a cocoon wrapped around a caterpillar. They sheltered my warm and doleful frame as I tightly clenched them with my perspiring, white-knuckled hands. The blankets were blue in color and were warm and soft despite being dampened from a stream of salty tears that trickled down my flushed cheeks. I pulled them down from my discolored face and slowly pulled my body out from underneath them. I pushed myself up, my hands still in fists, and leaned my back against the purple-painted wall behind my bed to support my unbalanced self. Many wet, mascara-stained tissues laid around me and more were wrinkled inside my closed hands. I looked out my bedroom window that overlooked a baby evergreen tree while thoughts of Ryan swirled viciously inside my mind like a tornado tearing up the plains.
Ryan was this tall, handsome, 18 year old boy who I went to tennis camp with over the summer. He and I became really close friends. Every day of the month long camp, Ryan and I were together. We were always in the same practice group as well as in the same fitness group. We were always doubles partners in the weekly tournaments and we were always on the same team for when we participated in lawn games each afternoon. We even ate lunch and dinner together and hung out in the dorm’s lounge every night. He and I were inseparable.
After a while, I developed feelings for him. So much in fact at times I even thought I loved him. I loved his hair, his smile, his laugh, his poise, and I even loved the way he threw his arms in the air after he hit a winner on match point. I loved everything about him. He kept me moving forward with a smile stretched across my face. I thought nothing could get in the way of us.
Except for his girlfriend. The girlfriend he never, not once, told me about. My friend Josephine, who I also befriended at camp, sent me a picture she found on his Tumblr page. She, unlike me, is an avid Tumblrer, therefore she has access to these pictures showcasing the unfortunate parts of life. The picture was of him and some blond chick canoodling in an open trunk in what looked liked some trailer park. He captioned it, “Happy five months baby” with about five hearts and kissy faces following those heart-wrenching words.
I was devastated, completely and utterly devastated. How did he not tell me about her? We spent everyday of the month of July together and he did not bring up this chick once. How? Why? I thought he liked me just as much as I liked him, but I guess I thought wrong. If he told me he was in a relationship in the beginning, then I wouldn’t have a problem with him like I do now. I wouldn’t have been mad at all if he had just told me upfront he was in a relationship instead of leading me on with his charm and delightful smile and making me think he’s available. This is why I now believe people should always be frank with others so that nobody is left hiding underneath blankets with tears streaming down their face. Nobody wants their feelings hurt and nobody wants to fall in love with someone who doesn’t have the dignity to tell you they are already taken. Just be frank and people will understand and they won’t get hurt or disappointed.