• The Last One

    by  • February 7, 2018 • * Safe for Work *, Moving On • 0 Comments

    And the thing is, I’m okay now. I hope you are too. I wish you hadn’t blocked me, that we could’ve stayed distant friends, but I get it now that everyone deals with things in their own way and your way was to push away anything and anyone that made you unhappy. Do I blame you for that? No. Sometimes it makes me sad, I won’t lie, but to each their own. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that what we had wasn’t a good relationship. Hell, it barely was a relationship. We texted constantly, saw each other maybe once a week besides when we were in classes, and spent our times together in your room, alone, playing your video games and watching your movies.
    You didn’t want to go out and do anything, you didn’t want to get to know my friends, and I was never invited to meet up with your friends. You had your group and I had mine, and they never once intersected. I played a game of KanJam with you on field day and Kaelyn stood by my side as a motivator, and afterwards we sat on the grass together for maybe ten minutes, but that was it. My friends are a huge part of my life, and you had no interest in exploring that part of me.
    You wanted me, alone, and I suppose it was a good thing that you had such a single-minded focus on being with me, but the consistent one-sided focus was bad for us in the end. It was exhausting, trying to maintain a social life with my friends while trying to reply to each text you sent within a minute or so of receiving it. My lack of cell service annoyed you to no end, as did my mother’s strict no-phone-at-night rule. I risked it for you anyways, and got caught; over and over again.
    I started writing this letter on December 27, a week after I started talking to a guy. His name is Dig, a senior at that gorgeous prep school in the next town over, the one that looks like a castle, and lives in a huge house on Chestnut Street and plays polo at the college level. His only flaw? I’ve never actually met him in person. He called me because his grandfather used to have my phone number, and he hadn’t realized it had been changed. A day after I started writing this, I told my mom about him, because I wanted to actually meet him. She lost it, as she tends to do, because I’d been talking to this boy I’d never met, because I’d FaceTimed him once (it wasn’t even FaceTime– it was Google Hangouts at 11.30 at night for nearly four hours before we both fell asleep). She took my phone away, made me block him, disabled location services on my phone, took my Chromebook, and basically put me on house arrest until the end of winter break. She shattered my phone, Jake. Threw it on the ground and then tossed it on the kitchen counter, shattered the tempered glass and my screen. She says she’ll pay to have it fixed, but she hasn’t really made any type of effort yet.
    I didn’t listen to her. As soon as I got my phone back for even the tiniest bit a day, to check things for cheerleading, I logged into Snap and added him back. We talked for a little bit each day when my mom wasn’t home, or when I was allowed on my phone, and it was like nothing had changed. I wasn’t allowed to see him anymore, because of my mom; because she thought that since I hadn’t met him face to face, he was automatically untrustworthy. So we kept talking. He was still interested in me, even with everything with my mom. This past Wednesday was definitely when he was at his most flirty, all the way up until I snapped him at dance when our costumes came in. He left me on open, and continued to do with the majority of the my next snaps, occasionally responding. I asked if I had done something wrong, but he never replied. Finally, on Saturday, when I apologized for possibly doing something to make him not want to talk to me, he told me he had met someone else.
    He said he still really liked me, that he wanted to be friends. I agreed, because it was ten at night and I had been sitting on a couch with a sick four-year-old girl asleep on my lap for three hours, and if that was what it took to get him to talk to me again, then friends would be okay. But his Snap story because just pictures of this girl, as they went out to dinner together, and then of his laptop screen as they also FaceTimed late at night. She was wearing his polo hoodie. And he continued to leave me on open, even after starting conversations. It was like it took him a little while to remember that he didn’t like me anymore. It kind of crushed me; I felt stupid for thinking it would work out, and for getting upset over someone I’d never truly met. It was just… disappointing, I don’t know. Like I’d had a chance and blown it before I’d even realized what I was doing.
    In conclusion, I thought I had found someone else. It was a bit soon for me, but I thought I could get to know him and have it grow from there, like we did. Talking to Dig was what made me realize that what we had wasn’t real. I had thought that he could give me real, that I could have this one thing to make my senior year slightly less crappy than it already is, but that didn’t happen. Regardless, it helped me move on: move on from pining over you, from not being able to delete the pictures of us in my camera roll, from looking through screenshots of the good conversations we had that had gotten automatically uploaded to my Google Drive. I finally had the strength to delete them, and after a panic attack or two, I actually felt good about it.
    I wore your bracelet today, the one with the blue crystal heart. I needed something to match my outfit for Dress to Impress day for spirit week, and after a few seconds of thinking about it, I dug the little white box out from the bottom of my soccer drawer where I’d hidden it almost five months ago. September nineteenth. The date will never unstick itself from my head, just like March thirteenth and March twenty-first and February eighteenth. Jake days.
    Anyways. I couldn’t breathe when I put it on, remembering all the mornings I’d get up and clasp it onto my left wrist as part of my daily routine. I didn’t go anywhere without wearing that damn bracelet: Cape May, Maine, school, train meetings. It was a part of me, and it was a part of me today. I managed to make it through the entire school day without ripping it off, but as soon as I got home and was in my room again, I had to take it off. It’s on my dresser right now, not back in the soccer drawer, which is a good thing I suppose.
    I don’t think I’ll be wearing it again anytime soon though. Strength comes in small doses before it becomes a habit.
    I’m not strong now, Jake. I’m still weak and disappointed and I just continue to let people use me. But I won’t give up. I’m tired of feeling like this, like a piece of paper that people can just pass back and forth. I’ll be stronger. Once March is over I’ll be okay again, I think. March was all the firsts- first date, first kiss- so it’s painful to think about reliving it without you there. But I’m moving on. I’ll be okay now. I promise.

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