I’m going to tell you a story, tumblrfeed. But it’s fiction. All of it, fiction.
I was in high school once. I dated a boy once. He was the sweetest, most innocent boy I’d ever met, and he was good to me, and he was beautiful. We spent 3 months of our lives together in happiness, I thought. I didn’t know what love was. I didn’t understand what I was feeling, but I wanted to spend every waking moment with him. Then summer came. I was going away, and I told him we should break up. So we did. It was alright. We still cared about each other. I missed him. But it was a clean break, and I was going to be alright, after a while.
Then halfway through the summer, 2 months after we’d broken up, he texted me. Out of the blue. Told me that God had come to him in a dream and told him that I needed to forgive him for everything. That I needed to let go of my anger against him. It was 11pm on my only night off for the week at a YMCA camp in northern MN. I was watching a movie. I was tired. I texted back and said that I didn’t understand, that I wasn’t angry with him, that I never was. I was confused. We hadn’t spoken in months, not a single word or text. He texted back angry messages, hurtful things that said I was wrong. I said I loved him. He said there was no way I could love him. Love belonged only to God. You could not have love for another person because the only person you could love was God. I started crying. I didn’t know what to say. He told me my religion was wrong. Everything I believed in was wrong. Everything my parents had taught me, all of my values, were wrong. That I needed to embrace Jesus Christ as my lord and savior. That I was going to hell. That I didn’t love him.
I didn’t care about the hell part. I’d been told that before. It’s what comes with being different. It’s what comes with growing up in a small town. My father’s college friends told him the same thing, and that was the last time he spoke to them. He taught me that it happens, that it shouldn’t control your life. That people are ignorant. That they didn’t know any better. That it wasn’t personal.
But I loved him. And I broke, after that. Physically, I was fine, but mentally, I was in tatters. Emotionally, I was a wreck. I texted back an hour after it had happened, saying I was sorry, saying how much he meant to me. I sent another, with the same sort of message, the next morning. He never texted me back. He never spoke to me again. It’s been almost a year now. I haven’t been fixed yet. I’ve kissed 2 boys since him. I’ve felt nothing with any of them. I know that I still love him. From what I’ve heard, he’s gone off the deep end into some crazed religion mumbo jumbo. His closest friends have lost sight of who he really is anymore. But every time I see his picture, I break a little more inside. Tonight I spent five minutes curled up in pure anger after looking at his facebook page. We aren’t friends anymore. I don’t know if he even knows I de-friended him.
I want to talk to him. But I don’t know what to say. What do you say to someone who broke your heart, but still holds the pieces of it in his angry hands? What do I do? Does it ever get better? The worst part is that he can’t be reached. No matter what I’d say, I know he doesn’t believe in love. He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t understand that he treated me like total and utter shit, and he never will. That’s the worst of it. He’ll never be sorry. And I’ll never let go of him.
Don’t forget what I said. Everything is fiction. I cannot be trusted.
