I Remember

I remember the first time he told me that he loved me.  Everything inside of me wanted to believe him but I knew, I knew it was a lie.  I had heard stories of all the girls before me and how he used them and left them for dead.  I wouldn’t let him use me.

The weird thing is that I kinda wanted to love him.  We were as together as two broken people could be without calling it what it was, a relationship.  He was hot, I was rather adorable, but in a grown up way, and we fit together well.

I remember the first time I met him.  My friends had talked me into going to this stupid party and some sophomore’s house who was trying to make it onto the good side of the popular kids.  I reluctantly went, and there he was, sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand, looking oh so mysterious, like the honey badger who doesn’t even give a shit.  After I got some liquid courage in my gut, I walked over and sat down.  I said hi and told him my name and he told me his.  That was when it all started.

After a few minutes he asked if I wanted to go outside.  Neither of us was drunk, so we went for a walk.  He told me how much he hated going to parties, but that it was a good place to pick up chicks.  I laughed and playfully pushed his arm.  He took my hand and asked me about my dreams.  I told him and then asked him about his.  After a few blocks I realized we were near my house.  My parents weren’t around so we went inside and turned on The Italian Job.  I didn’t let him kiss me that night.

I saw him the next week at school.  I’m not sure why I had never noticed him before.  He was suddenly the guy who sat behind me in my AP English class.  But he was so much more than that.  I soon learned that he had been watching me for months, and if he wasn’t so damn hot, I’d think that was creepy.  He was secretly ecstatic that I had talked to him that night at that stupid party.  He had only gone because he knew I would be there.

Slowly I drifted from my friends until he was my everything.  I wanted him to be my everything.  He started coming over everyday after school.  We would do our homework and then watch TV.  Eventually watching TV turned into making out.  Eventually doing homework turned into doing each other.  I lost myself in him.

After all the stories, I realized I needed to find myself.  He wasn’t my boyfriend, but really he was.  He didn’t want a girlfriend.  We were just friends, but we were confused.  When I told him I needed to stop everything, that’s when I think he let go.  I had never realized I was different to him.  I had always thought I was just another conquest.  If I had known that he was dying, I would have changed.  If I had known I would be the one to kill him… If only I had known…

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