They say all beauty can be traced back to a broken heart. And mine is breaking. So why not start telling people about it. I could say it's about a boy, but that might spoil the ending. So I can start at the beginning and one day you'll know it's not just about a boy... it's about the losing of one's innocence, when she realizes the world is not what they write about in Harlequin.
By the age of 19 I knew nothing about love. At least not the sense of being "in" love. I had had plenty of school girl crushes, but overall I was pretty innocent. Never been kissed, well except a boy when I was about 5 years old (yes, tongue lol), barely had held hands, but I wanted these things. I had read enough of those Harlequin romances to know that. -- When I'd visited my Grandmother (who actually is very well read and now retired from teaching college Speech teaches literature to prodigy children) I'd borrow her lighter reading, because I could read a couple books in a visit.
I'd also by this time, experienced enough life to know Harlequin was unrealistic. But still, my young fantisies involved a good man, who thought I was beautiful and loved me and wanted to rescue me from my home life. And that was a mistake. Believing I was the exception and could experience a fairytale was a mistake. I wish I could talk to the girl I was then, and change that foolish mistake. But I am not. I am not there to save her. Hell, this many years later... I am not here to save me.
Side Note: Dear Future, please invent a time travel device... or... Let's do the Time Warp!
In college I was trying to pursue a relationship with God. I had chosen to start drinking at age 18 (though was never drunk until 21 -- true story!). When I left my home town for college I wanted to mend my ways. And become more involved with Jesus. Though I am no longer religious I am glad I wanted this at that age.
I met the only man I have ever truly loved during my first semester at college. Don't be fooled... I didn't say that in a tender way, just factual. God, I grew to love him.
My fondest memory of dating him was: walking in the dead of night around campus having a serious conversation. One of my traits is I have to be moving to have a heart-to-heart. Even on the phone I pace. But anyway, we were walking and I was squicking bugs with my sneakers.
*squish* *squish* "Every man in my life has hurt me. My father killed himself when I was 11, my grandpa told me it was my fault, and my step dad was slightly abusive." I told him, not meeting his eyes, but instead, finding my next bug to squish.
That silly, silly boy - that at the time I didn't know I would really love said to me, "I will never hurt you."
Funny. I remember telling him that of course he would because he was human. And all humans hurt other humans at one point. But I could never, ever imagine him hurting me as much as he did.
No comments:
Post a Comment