I study my face and then quickly move my eyes to his face in the only picture I have with both of us in it. It is odd that this is the only picture I have, because he is so tangled in my life; that he should be in every picture. It was taken in the middle of an electric slide pose while our church youth group was learning a line dance. His face was focused on his toes during the pose. My mouth was in an awkward shape, being taken during a laugh. He was always making me laugh with little things like that. I remember that night well; it was only two weeks ago.
These past two weeks have been long and hard from me fighting an internal battle. One side of me told me that he didn't care about me anymore and that he is ready to move on, keeping me in his past instead of taking my hand and walking with him towards his future. The other side of me, quite frankly the side I hope is right, says that his distance is all in my head and I am making all of this up.
It can't be though. The pain is to real to be fake.
He was my first for many events that are memorable. He was the first boy to hold my hand. He was the first boy who I was really comfortable with. He was the first person I shared everything with. He was my first best friend who understood me. He was the first boy to say he liked my natural curls better then my straightened hair. He was the first boy I slowed danced with. He was the first boy I cried in front of and the first I had seen cry. The first boy who almost kissed me. He was the first boy I fell in love with.
This love isn't the type of love where just physical desires were wanted. It wasn't the teenage girl love after knowing a boy for two weeks either. It was the type of love where I will do almost anything to make him feel better. I would run miles if he wanted me to. I did everything I could to make him laugh on the days he didn't want to crack a smile. That was, and still is, the love I have for him.
It was so exciting, feeling wanted by someone. The knowledge of someone falling in love with me made if easier to get up in the morning. I started feeling feelings I never knew I could feel. Feelings I couldn't understand. Feelings I still can't wrap my finger around.
He made me so mad sometimes, the way he was a jerk by ignoring things I had to say as a small, insignificant example. Whenever he took his teasing to the next level, it made me want to smack him upside the head. Whenever he told me I was overreacting and acting selfish, I wanted to kick him out of my life. I got so angry at him when he told me to get over my problems. I told him I can't just get over years of bad habits. He was so annoyed as I fiercely told him everything about me, again. He rolled his eyes. I yelled at him, throwing words I really didn't mean. He stood still and walked away. He didn't make any effort to talk to me until after school the next day.
He made me feel so loved. He told me that he was lucky to have me in his life. He complimented me. Whenever he had reached for my hand and touched me, I realized everything I ever wanted was standing next to me. He laughed at my jokes and told me he thought I was funny. He always knew what to say every time I came to him for help.
He always could make me smile. He kept my days warm and sunny. He never forgot my birthday or to wish me luck on a test I freaked out to him about. He always was my cheerleader, giving me
encouragement for my emotional, mental, physical and academic battles.
It is now dark out and I am mentally walking on the path where we walk home each day. I am at the part where we enter into the neighborhood and nature has taken over the man-made walkway. I notice a full moon peeking out from behind. The memory of him excitedly talking about this exact view on a walk home freshmen year. He told me that this path becomes very romantic at night. His emerald eyes twinkled as he smiled sheepishly. I smiled, as he had playfully brushed his hand against mine. He then quickly took his hand away, as if to tease me, and placed it back into his jean pocket. The memory softly ends with me smiling.
These past two weeks have done nothing but confuse me and cause me to question him. He is so distant from me that he might as well be on a different universe. His friendship seems no longer something I have. His willingness to talk to me is a thing of the past. I miss his hand tangled with mine. I miss his quick smile. I feel like he is a stranger I just met.
He is slipping through my fingers.
I still love him.
