I have always been in love with the idea of being in love. The chocolates, roses, and the sweet good morning texts. Watching movies where the girl gets the guy of her dreams and lives happily ever after. The music about kissing and sparks flying after. The romantic quotes and poetry on Pinterest. Going to the beach and seeing couples, young and old, holding hands as they walk down the beach, sharing sweet kisses. I wanted all of this so badly. But growing up I was never a sight for sore eyes when it came to boys. I didn’t love myself. How was someone to love me. That all changed my Junior year of High School.
I fell hard for a boy during the first semester and for once it seemed that I might have had a chance. That he might’ve be interested in me as well. I wrote letters to my biological father who is dead, poems and songs that I would never have the guts to share with anyone else. But one day I felt overly confident and decided to give the boy one of the poems. I pour my heart out to the boy in the poem. I went home that night in tears, wondering why I had given it to him. Why had I put myself in such a vulnerable situation.
The next day I went to school with all of the bad reactions he could give me floating around in my head. But I got an entirely different reaction from him. He came up and without saying anything, hugged me, and thanked me for caring about him. He told me he lived in a group home because he made some dumb decisions, that he doesn’t see his family anymore. That he had no friends, that no one had been as nice to him.
When he hugged me I felt the sparks fly around us. It felt so weird to be in the position that I had for so long dreamed of being in. I blushed for the rest of the day. A few days later we shared our first kiss.I lost myself to this beautiful boy. I had everything that I had always dreamed of having.
Everything was perfect, I was happy and he seemed happy. Or so I thought. One day we started getting into a fight and he sent me pictures of him with other girls. When I looked at the pictures I thought: “He never looked at me like that.” Or “He never smiled like that.” And “He never held me like that.”
I was distraught, my life was finally happy and I was giving him everything I could. My love, my attention, my life. I gave up my friends. I had no one anymore because I spent so much time defending him, defending what I thought was our love. But it seemed to have never been mutual. After receiving the pictures and emails, I went off on him. I sent rude and terrible things about him, his family, and the girl. I verbally attacked him. He went mad with anger and came at me and beat me up. I remember the hate in his eyes. The hands that had once held me tight after kisses and “I love you’s” were now rough and strong as he hit me. I was helpless and that day I promised myself that I will never let anyone lay a hand on me. I would never let anyone treat me like that. I would never fall in love like that again, I was so clouded by my emotions that I didn’t see the monster inside.
So love isn’t what it is all cracked up to be. Especially when the love isn’t mutual.