Your girl is lovely, Hubble

msprivate — Sat, 19 Nov 2005 05:45:11 GMT

Long winded entry. Don't read unless you really want to, it's mostly here to let me put all my thoughts down on paper.

It's funny how extreme emotions draw me back to journals. I've always been one for writing, for lists... they clear my thoughts, help me organize everything. I'm like Patricia Nelson Limerick in that way, I suppose... if I could put everything into neat, organized little patterns, I would. It would help me predict what happens next, help me gain perspective on what has happened. But I don't put everything into patterns, I just write it down. I look back later, of course, and tear up/erase things I'd prefer not to remember, but just the act of writing helps me out. How many countless notebook pages have I gone through with boxes next to them for me to check off? German homework, clean room, study for math test.

But how do I make a check list now? "Mend broken heart" isn't really an option.

I'm 17 years old. I have my first broken heart... god knows it won't be my last. Have I made people feel this way before? I hate the thought. Maybe it's relationship karma.

I'm lucky. A teenage girl, going through normal teenage angst. I just read My Sister's Keeper and thank god I don't go through a hell like that. But at the same time, it's a struggle to not cry in class, a hardship to do anything productive at home... This week I slept on average 4 hours a night, I'm getting nosebleeds, I haven't been eating. I'm getting better, I felt better today than I did yesterday, and better yesterday than the day before, but I still feel pretty crummy today.

With past boyfriends, after the breakup I took everything that reminded me of them... pictures, ticket stubs, notes and trinkets and put them in a shoebox. I put the shoebox on my top shelf, where I could easily ignore it, easily get used to it not being there.

Everything reminds me of Evan. How do I put my entire world in a shoebox and tuck it neatly away?

I can't go half an hour without thinking about him, remembering funny stories to tell him later, clipping ads for him to see. He broke my heart, but I can't NOT have him in my life.

My grandma told me never to be as friendly as a girl in a TV program we watched, with ex-boyfriends who were that close to me. But how can I not? I've spent the last 7 months seeking solace in him, going to him when something good happened and I wanted to celebrate, looking for counsel/advice from him. He's my only real friend. He knows everything about me, and understands, or at least I think he does. (Almost) all my girl friends, they're fun and funny and sympathetic, but I have no real connection with them. When high school ends, so will our friendship. Evan could never be like that. He knows too much about me. Even if I don't talk to him for years, he will be the one I think about when a big event happens, he will be the one I want to tell.

I'm not saying I'll love him forever. I don't even know if I love him now. But I can't imagine a life where he's not a constant, where he's not there to talk to. He's out with Lynnae right now, and I feel lonely.

A week ago, hell even Monday afternoon, I had no idea any of this was going to happen. We were having a great phone conversation, laughing and talking, and he even said it was a good phone conversation, how silly. It was 10:30, and my bedtime, but I told him I was going to stay on 10 minutes longer to talk to him. What a mistake, he let it slip out, I questioned too hard, and it all poured out.

Everything was wonderful. We'd never fought, we'd never run out of things to say, everything was great.

Except, of course, that he goes to school in Oregon.

The longer he's gone, he told me, the less he loves me.

Last Saturday he met her, they talked, it was innocent enough. The group wanted to go to a concert, they walked to the bus stop, talking the whole way, bumping into each other. He told me he couldn't stop thinking about her.

I told him from the very beginning, if he has any doubts to tell me. If he likes another girl, tell me right away. And he did. How could I fault him? He claimed he still loved me just as much as he had before, but that that amount of love had decreased... He apologized for not being able to love me as well from Oregon as he could in Sammamish. He said if he still went to my high school, or if we lived in the same town, he doubted any of this would happen. Part of the reason he likes her is because she's so much like me - we're vegetarians, we look similar, we act silly. Evan and I decided we wouldn't make any decisions about what to do until he came home for Thanksgiving Break.

Last night he went to the Death Cab for Cutie concert with her. I told him to. I knew, although I hoped against the odds, what would happen. Of course he held her, kissed her, held her hand. Of course they like each other. Of course he decided, at 1 in the morning this morning, that he wants to break up.

And I try to be supportive. I was there to remind him to bring the tickets and the directions and the extra money. God, does it hurt when he talks about her. Like he doesn't know every word he says, every time he says her name, he cuts a hole in my heart.

And I hate myself. It's unfair, why can't he just love me more? Why can't I be better? Maybe if I was smarter, or funnier, or kinder, more patient. Or prettier, but that's a given. Maybe if I wasn't so sensitive or afraid or wounded from previous jilts.

I'm not really pining for him. I'm pining for what we had. The last time I saw him was the Rolling Stones concert. He drove me home from Seattle while I slept in the front seat - I trusted him to drive me home in the pouring rain while I dreamed. He pulled into my driveway, it was past one, I told him not to walk me to the door. He didn't have to give me a proper kiss goodnight, he could make up for it the next time he saw me.

I should have let him walk me to the door.

I'm pining for what we had. I'm 17 and I know I'll love again, and I know I'll hurt again, but this is the hardest. I've never told anyone this much about myself, and he rejected it. How scary it is, to offer yourself to someone completely and totally, with the chance that they'll toss you out like an ice cream cone with a flavor you thought was something else, or worse, accept you like a christmas gift they thought they knew what it was and found out it was something they never really wanted, and have to smile and say thank-you anyway.

I don't regret any of it. I think back on every moment we had and smile because it was wonderful. There are no absolutes in life, I hope... Maybe in 15 years I'll run across him by accident in a coffee shop and we'll talk and laugh and fall in love again and get married. Maybe not. I don't even know if I want that, I doubt I will, but just the fact that it COULD happen calms me a little. There is no guarantee of either happy or bad news, and it's funny how that reassures me.

I can't hide away anything he gave me. I can't throw it away. I have ticket stubs on my bulliten board, his photos on my wall, a dried corsage on my nightstand, seashells he carried in his pocket for me the first day we held hands.

I can't be mad at him. He can't help the way he feels, he can't help that he found someone better for him. She's nice, and she's smart, and she plays the guitar and sings, and they like the same bands, and she has never had a boyfriend before, and she's there. I hope they're happy, I really hope they are. I hope he doesn't lie to her, I hope he doesn't expect too much from her.

Today in 3rd period, when our teacher lectured to us, all I could imagine was him putting his arms around her and kissing her, knowing that I was home waiting for him.

He's my best friend. I'll always love him in that way, anyhow, and I hope my inclination to love him in the ther way fades soon. He's coming home on Wednesday. Almost 4 days from now. A week ago, I counted those days down hopefully and happily. I don't know what to expect anymore. He's coming over wednesday, we're going bike riding thursday, friday he'll be at his grandparents, saturday we're seeing a movie and maybe smething else.

Other girls would hate him, for saying he would wait and then not. For feeling, for weeks or months, that he loves me less than he used to. For telling me about HER, for making me listen.

But I can't hate him. I need him. I hope that in some way, he needs me too.

It's getting easier though.

new journal! first entry (crafts)

msprivate — Sat, 16 Jul 2005 18:53:40 GMT

created from an old camp shirt of Evan's and a plain yellow t-shirt.

skirt made from old-lady sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt

A purse I made for my friend nichole's birthday, which is today

the adventures of a teenage lunatic

Your girl is lovely, Hubble

new journal! first entry (crafts)