Today I was inspired by I’m Boy Crazy. See, usually I write about clothing and a lot of impersonal stuff so I figured I’d change it up. I know I’ll come to regret writing all of this but like the author of “I’m Boy Crazy” said, “Sometimes I write s*** and I say to myself “who are you? Why did you write that? you’re totally misrepresenting yourself.” and that might be what I am doing right now…

While reading “I’m Boy Crazy”, I realized it has almost been a year now. It’s almost been a year since I fell flat on my face and lost my damn mind. I’m convinced that I lost my mind, for he was (the whole situation was) so irrational that I can not justify it.

The beginning:

I walked down the flight of stairs. There was this weird arch in the ceiling so I couldn’t see the end of the staircase until I actually got there. I saw boots, faded jeans, a black t-shirt, and at last, I saw a face. What a beautiful face. Guys in my mind, can’t be beautiful. They can be handsome, hot, gorgeous even but not beautiful. Yet, he was just that. A smile later and that was it. I came to learn that he was older than I, he was musically talented and really charming.  I still can’t figure out how in the world that happens? From the one day to the next? How is that it!? I’m not going to write about the entire thing – that would require 300+ pages but I will tell you this…

Everything from there on seems a bit of a blur. We began hanging out on a regular basis. I had myself some good laughs – I faked a few too or a lot but only because I seriously wanted to impress him. I always felt like I was on bought time. I felt always felt rushed, like I’d never see him again. Months later, I replaced that feeling because I suddenly felt like I had the right to get upset at him. After all, I’d known him for awhile – right? I’m irrational when upset so I would scream & shout at him. I would even have tantrums like a little girl & I do admit that it was a little manipulative since my acts were really only a plea; a plea for a reaction since that’s all I wanted from him. A reaction would imply that he actually cared. He’d always snicker, he’d tell me I was irrational – on rare occasions, he’d hug me & a few times he made the mistake of laughing at me. Regardless of what he did, it was never enough because everything he said or did, just didn’t seem genuine. Poor guy because even when he came with me home for a holiday & pulled me in and kissed me, I pulled away with the excuse, “my parents are right there…” but the truth was, I was scared of him. He scared me more than anything and I was absolutely adamant that he had malicious intentions. I once made the analogy that I was certain he was like a Viking. He sought to destroy and flee for no real reason, he just wanted to be barbaric and revengeful. It seemed like someone or something had taken all of his energy and as a result, he refused to spend any on me.

As the passage above illustrated, there were days were he tuned in. We had some really good days. Days were he would look at me like I was solid gold. He’d cuddle me, laugh with me & spend time with my family. But as quickly as those moments came, they also went. It was like he was one of those wax figures from the Night at the Museum. The minute the sun showed, he became solid wax again – emotionless, distant. It bothered me.

The middle:

Here’s where everything turned in to a circus. I really figured that if I (excuse my language) ate shit everyday and was still there, he’d come to his senses and be tuned in all of the time. It came to a point where I was now no longer pleading with him but I was pleading with myself. “Get rid of him, he’s an a**hole” my friends would say. No part of me wanted to listen even though I knew they were right. Especially then since the rare moments where he was tuned in were gone. He always looked at me with despair; I was simply an annoyance. We fought constantly mostly because we actually weren’t dating so I had “no right to get mad” at anything but I did and I think any girl in my shoes would have. I didn’t mind the arguing part mostly because at least he was now giving me a reaction but it was his random act of carelessness, lying and lack of purpose that got to me. It drained me. I didn’t sleep, I barely ate and I lost all focus in school. What was going on? I felt ridiculous. How was this all happening? Over a guy!? I kept how I felt a good secret though because that’s what my mother taught me. You never leave the house without make-up and nice clothing on, that way a stranger will never know that your insides are chaos because on the outside, you look composed. I became a pro at faking it. Imagine that, I was no longer faking laughs but I was faking an entire persona. I kept a smile on my face and heels on my feet. I don’t even think he knew how I felt although he lacked any ounce of empathy whenever I tried explaining it to him usually by calling me “psycho”.

The end:

I’m going to take a big leap from the story. I refuse to explain how “The end” occurred but we haven’t truly spoken for months now. It’s a power trip. At first, it took every ounce of self dignity to not pick up the phone to call or text him. Every time I saw him, I either wanted to punch him or embrace him. We have since called a truce and the last time I spoke with him, he threw his arms around me and gave me the first genuine hug in months. We laughed like we used to, he looked at me nicely & I kind of felt like I was standing in front of a stranger. It was nice and it is probaly the last memory I will ever have of him… I won’t complain and if he ever reads this, I hope he knows I wrote this with joy.

I’m talking to/seeing someone new now. It’s really new and I doubt he’ll ever be written about like this. This is like a once in a lifetime blog post.

Some of you might be wondering why I’d write about old school when I have found new school? It’s truly simple: Past & present go hand & hand.

Wish me luck,


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