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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I entered this as a short story but it seems to be more of a letter of sorts. It is labeled as a memoir not because someone died but a piece of me died. As pathetic as that sounds, its the truth, i refuse to lie to the readers that may or may not read this. After this depressing summary, if you choose to read this excerpt, i hope that you understand the emotions i was feeling as i poured my heart and soul into it. If you are going through something similar, it gets better. I promise. Thank you for reading.

Submitted: March 31, 2016

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Submitted: March 31, 2016



I was never good at keeping a journal. It always seemed so pointless and ever so slightly, narcissistic. You write about how terrible or good your day was for what? To go back and read it to yourself because in 20 years, you might actually want to know what kind of a day you had on Thursday, April 17th. It seemed like a tremendous waste of time. 

But other people seem to think that it gives them a glimpse back into their past as a teenager. Maybe they could share this journal with their future son or daughter. Give them advice or give some direction on how to go about asking the girl or boy from their chemistry class on a date. 

Some people use it to write down their thoughts as some form of therapy because it's easier to write about it than to discuss it with another person. I was never the sentimental type so I never understood the point of it all. Until I met you. 

You always seemed to be full of joy that was contagious. You were always the kindest to those who were unloved and the people that everyone seemed to be the most impatient with. You were never cross or rude, never arrogant nor unkind. I thought you were perfect. 

Your eyes glittered with endless joy and I was completely captivated by them. They were a deep blue, and every time I stared into them, they seemed to tell a story of pain and deep wounds that had healed over time. They told a story of how you made the decision to move forward with your life and live with purpose. 

We talked all day and all night. Never growing bored of one another's company and the more and more I let you break down the walls I had so cleverly built around my heart, the more I fell in love with you. The more I trusted you. The unfaltering joy that you seemed to radiate soon caught up with me. I was changing. I felt happy with you and I believed that you were happy with me. 

Although I felt that I fell short in comparison to you in every way possible. In your manner and poise, your attitude and reputation, your intellect and athletic ability. But I felt like it didn't matter. 

I was so honored to be even looked at by you. I didn't have expectations. I just wanted to be with you. I just wanted to be near you. Most people thought it would not work between us, but I did not care what everyone else thought. You were going away soon. But I did not seem to mind. I thought that my love for you was stronger than the distance that would be between us. I was fearless of anything that stood as an obstacle. But I was not aware of the fact that you did not carry the same fearlessness that I gained from being by your side. As time went on the deeper I seemed to fall in love with you. I became so enamored with you. Heart and soul. But I was not enough for you. 

I feel so childish writing all of this down. Talking down on all those insufferable people keeping journals. But against my better judgment, I am doing the same.I just could not go on discussing this matter with even my closest friends. Not because they did not want to listen to me ramble on and on about you and my broken heart. 

But because I could not bear to hear myself discuss how I truly felt. I felt and still feel broken, vulnerable and... Weak. 

I always considered myself strong and independent. You were the first to make me want to be dependent upon someone else. Trusting you seemed like a good idea. Letting the fortress I had so strongly built for myself down, just for you. Never fully understanding what that would mean. 

Had I thought it all through before diving head first into loving you? I still cannot say. You have hurt me and broken me in so many ways. But the most confusing part about this situation is that I do not know whether or not you meant to hurt me. You apologized. I accepted your apology. I forgave you. I think I forgave you. The more and more I think of the definition of forgiveness I realize, that I have not forgiven you. 

I want to forgive you. I need to forgive you. As i discuss with my confidants, how i feel about you and how hurt i was, how hurt i am, they say i must forgive you. That it will give me some sort of closure so i can move on. But every time i make the decision to forgive you, I remember all the things you said to me. The feelings come rushing back. The feelings i so desperately suppress in an effort to stop feeling broken. It's the most frustrating thing. I see you everyday and almost go to you to give you a good morning hug and ask you how you slept. But I stop in my tracks and remember i cannot do that. You aren't mine to hug, to hold or to love. 

So maybe this is why i cannot seem to muster up forgiveness for you.I argue mostardently that you are undeserving of my friendship or forgiveness. But my confidants insist that in different ways, we are all undeservingof forgiveness. 

I cannot do it. I never handled being hurt well. I assume it is pride that stands in the way of me offering forgiveness. 

You apologize all the time to me about the situation and i always force that dreaded sentence through my teeth with a tight smile and say, "i forgive you." 

You, seemingly well pleased, walk away offering one last smile of reassurance over your shoulder at me. Almost toying with me. That playful smile you gave me from across the room when you caught me gazing lovingly at you. I would analyze all of your features in their entirety. Never wanting to forget how you would crinkle your nose when you were confused or how you ran your hands through your tousled blonde hair while you read. 

Did you even love me? I looked back at photos we had taken together. You always seemed so distant in photos while I seemed so involved. Not with the cameras that stood before us, but with you. 

The most vexing part of this situation is that you made me love you and i should hate you for it. But Alas, i cannot. Although you seemed to have turned off the feelings that you supposedly had for me. I cannot do the same for you. I've tried. 

You apologize and my friends always ask me, "what more do you want from him? What did you expect?" 

I don't know. What did i expect? Did i expect this whole thing to be a nightmare and i would wake up finding it all to be untrue? Something made up out of worry in my subconscious?I could only wish that were true. Maybe i wanted you to kiss me and hug me and never let me go and tell me you were wrong. You made a mistake. But no, you never make mistakes. Do you? 

As i write this, i remind myself how silly this is. Writing all of this down. So focused on myself, on my pain. One day, I hope to be free of this pain i feel. To never speak of this, of you, again. But now i continue to sound like a broken record. Forced to replay the same dull song, until someone replaces me. I remain hopeful when that person replaces me, fixes me. They won't break me, break me like you have.


© Copyright 2018 Carrie Reede. All rights reserved.

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