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Surpreme ruler of eleven heavens
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- November 27, 2008
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Warning do not read directly after waking up. May cause sad day :( When I was 13, I met a guy named Mike.
Mike was a pretty cool guy. He had just moved from out of state, and I think I was his first friend. He introduced me to Her.
The first time I met her... Mike told me there was a girl he had been talking to, he wanted me to meet.
So he brought me along, and he introduced me to her. She was beautiful. She was fucking perfect. To this day, she is still the most perfect thing I have ever laid my sorry eyes on.
She was shy, and innocent. And Mike ended up making out with her, and dating her for a couple weeks before breaking up with her. Her and Mike stopped talking, and her and I became best friends. We were inseparable.
We grew incredibly close. I was 14, and she was 15. She told me she had rules and that she wouldn't date someone who was a friend because she didn't want to ruin our friendship. But the first time we kissed was something that I don't think I will ever get out of my head.
I was a band geek, and she was a varsity cheerleader. We ended up dating for a year, and then breaking up the summer of my freshman year.
I spent the entire Summer thinking about her, and thinking about how much of a mistake I had made. I felt like a total fuckup. She met someone else and started dating them. When school started up again, I had to deal with our mutual friends talking about how perfect they were for each other. It broke my heart.
We started talking again. I told her I missed our friendship, and we began to hang out regularly. Everything seemed fine, except for the fact that I still loved her.
I had to tell her. I was going to tell her that I couldn't stand being just friends one night when we were hanging out in her room... And she told me about her boyfriend. She told me how he had tried to take advantage of her. How she was scared to be alone with him. She was scared to break it off with him.
I held her and told her everything would be okay. I would help her any way I could. She kissed me, and told me I was the only one she ever loved. She would call him and break it off with him.
We started dating again half way through my sophomore year of highschool (her junior year). We made love for the first time a couple months later.
We moved in together that Summer, and lived together for the majority of my junior/her senior year. Her family was like my family, and everything was perfect.
But we were too young to be living together (obviously) and we didn't know compromise, and we began to fight. One day, it went too far and I told her to move out.
She took her things and went to live with her mom. The next day, she came over and I was ready to apologize and tell her I loved her, when she told me she had slept with a mutual friend of ours the night we had broken up.
I was absolutely heartbroken. I had always dreamed of us being the only ones each other had been with, and I didn't know how to react. She started crying, but I was too hurt and upset to do anything. I just asked her to leave, and I spent the next few months alone. I went to school on the days i could drag myself out of bed, and came back home. We still talked a little.
She moved into a duplex with some friends, and started talking to another guy named Alex. I went to visit her at her duplex one night, and she was telling me about everything, when she suddenly started crying and hugged me. I knew I could be with her then, but I was still too hurt, so I just left.
Her and Alex started dating, and were together my entire senior year of High school.
After graduation, I moved into an apartment with Mike, and a girl we knew. I sort of just went through the motions, not knowing what to do with myself.
The girl (K, we'll call her) and I kept in touch to an extent, and I still hung out with her brothers, who I considered brothers of my own. One day I broke down and told one of her brothers that I felt like I had made a terrible mistake, and I didn't know how I was going to live without her. I had always seen us spending the rest of our lives together.
He smiled and told me that K and I were meant to be together, and he knew that it would work out eventually.
I got a job at a casino in the city I lived in. I worked there for a couple months before realizing that K worked there too. Work was hell after that. I went to work and saw her, then went home and thought about her. It was constant reminders that I had fucked everything up.
I finally broke down one day and invited her to my apartment. I told her how I felt. We sat on opposite ends of my couch, and she cried while I told her how much I loved her. She put her arms around me and told me she felt the same way, but she was with Alex now.
I told her I understood, and she left.
The next couple weeks are a blur. I drank enough to probably kill myself, but somehow I made it through.
I finally decided I had to try at least one more time to make things right.
I spent the next week digging through pictures of K and I. I picked out the most emotional pictures I could find... Us at our first dance. Us having a mock wedding. Our first picnic together. Our first day living together.
I arranged all of these pictures together in a photo album, along with notes describing the significance of each one. I begged her for another chance.
I took the photo album with the pictures and notes to work one day. I searched for her car, and I left the photo album on her drivers seat.
I didn't hear from her for weeks. I spoke to her brother, and he told me she cried for several nights in a row when she looked at the photo album. I hoped that was a good sign.
She showed up at my apartment one night, and told me she loved me. We sat on my couch, tangled in each other's arms for hours. She told me she had to go talk to Alex, and she would be back.
When she came back however, she had decided her and Alex deserved another chance. I begged and cried. I told her I couldn't live without her. I told her she was my everything.
She apologized, and left me there. Alone.
I drank that night until I couldn't feel any more. I was told later my roommate found me sobbing under the bathroom sink. I had drank an entire bottle of vodka, taking shots out of a "love" shot glass. Ironic.
My roommate had driven me to Kie-... K's, and K had come back and nursed me through the night.
I woke up the next day with her in my arms.
The next few days are kind of a blur, but I remember going to her house and holding her in my arms. We kissed. We told each other how much we loved each other, and over the next couple months we got back together and I moved in with her.
It was rough. We had a LOT of hurt between us for what we had both done, and we never really got over alot of the things we had done to each other. We were together another year, and eventually we broke up again. This break up was particularly nasty.
She called the police and said I had hit her (I hadn't) and got me thrown in jail. She tried to recant that later, but the courts wouldn't allow it.
The next year was a blur of breakups, and reunions. I loved her so much, and she loved me so much, but we had both hurt each other so much at that point that it didn't matter.
At one point when we were together, she called me one day and told me she was pregnant. I was genuinely freaked out, and didn't react appropriately. I upset her, and we fought about it, but I eventually went back and told her I would be there for her, and we would raise our child together.
That pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, which broke us up again. We had two more miscarriages, before we basically ended our relationship for good. We had a few more little flings, but we were basically through.
So, /b/rothers, this is where I stand now.
I haven't talked to K in over a year.
After our last miscarriage, we were together for a month or so, but we kept each other a secret from our friends because we were both ashamed of going back so many times.
I finally changed my phone number so she couldn't talk to me anymore. Blocked her on Facebook. Stopped answering when she knocked at my door.
I just decided that I hurt her more than I helped her, and that because I loved her so much, I would do what was best and just disappear.
Over the last year, I have watched from a distance as she stripped herself of all of her morals and turned into a drunk. She frequents parties, and has sex with anyone who gets her drunk enough.
This beautiful girl... The shy, Christian, cute little cheerleader I fell in love with... The blue eyed angel who I dream about every night is dead. And I'm the one who made her what she is.
Because I was young and stupid and impatient, I turned this innocent little girl that I loved into the drunken slut that I can't even stand to think about without my eyes filling up with tears.
And I think about here every day.
We were together for 5 years, /b/. 5 fucking years.
I'm leaving out a lot of the heartbreaking details, simply because they are too many to list here. I left out how her mother has borderline personality disorder, and how I used to hold her as she cried herself to sleep because she didn't want to be like her mother. The countless emergency room visits when she had seizures, and the weeks that she forgot after she had them. The seizures would literally erase weeks of her memory. Some of my most treasured memories, she completely forgot. How I drove two hours to visit her in the hospital after she tried to kill herself when she was staying with her mom. How I burned every last picture I had of us or her. Every last thing that I had that had anything to do with her. I basically erased every memory of my high school career, because she was so ingrained in it. I erased an entire five years of my life. How I can't listen to songs that remind me of her. My favorite bands that defined who I am. I haven't listened to some of them in years. The way she smelled. Every once in awhile, I'll walk by someone who wears the same perfume she wore, and it just tears me up. I start crying in public. It's fucked up.
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