A story of boy meets girl… and hurts her badly

After my last post,  the result of a challenge, I was encouraged by some bloggers to tell more, to tell what happened next. Well, the truth is that I have already told you quite much. As always though I haven’t been clear. It always takes ages for me to be completely clear about what happened…

But today, I will tell you The Entire Story. The story of boy meets girl. But not with a happy end.

As my posts are mostly vague on the events, I’ll explain it in short. I met a guy. He seemed nice. At the end of February he kissed me. We spent the night together, but as I am a clever girl, we didn’t do anything more than kissing. He told me, literally, that he wouldn’t break my trust, that he wouldn’t ignore me. And then, he ignored me.

This broke something in me for the following reasons: I’ve been hurt in similar ways before. When this happened, I was thinking I could not handle such a thing anymore. And than this happened.
I really trusted him. Very much. And then he broke my trust.
He promised me not to do that. I feel like I can never trust people anymore.
He made me feel like I was not good enough.
He made me feel like I had shown my weakness. I cannot stand that.
He made me feel, once again, that I might grow old alone.

Now that is a short, very theoretical approach. Let’s take a look at what I wrote before… And this time, I’ll put it in a logical, chronological order. (There is even a list, at the end.)

So, Caught tells the story of how it happened. How we met. How he kissed me. A few days after this event, I wrote Repeat after me. This poem describes above all the guilt I felt, the guilt for letting this happen once again. At that moment though, I was still not sure whether he would contact me or not. Though it was highly unlikely, I still had a little bit of hope, somewhere deep inside.

But that changed. And I started plotting revenge. O, like I plotted revenge! I lived on it. I lived on hate, to protect myself from ever letting myself be fooled again. I needed the anger to know that I would not tolerate it.

Later on, I kind of got over it. I started studying for the finals, found out that I hated that even more than him, and then stopped actively plotting revenge. I would still like to punch him in the face, very much, much more than I’d ever like to admit, but it’s not haunting my thoughts anymore.

So, if you want to read the story in an understandable order with more details, here you go:

1. Caught
2. Repeat after me
3. The Sweetest
4. Return to Peace

And with this being told, here’s one more reason for me to hate him: it still hurts me after more than three fucking months. And that for just one night of treachery. So I dearly hope that I can add another post one day, a post about my real revenge, a post in which I can finally tell you that I no longer care about it.

Until that glorious day I just make sure to be fabulous when I go outside, so that when we run into each other, at least he’ll see what he’s missing out on.
And I pray that it will hurt like hell.

REVEEEEEENGE

Update: so there is a fifth episode… The final one.

Yesterday, after what may have been four or five years, I saw the guy who broke my heart for the first time again. Such weird coincidence that I decided to tell you.

My very first heartbreak

Did you know you can really die because of heartbreak? That’s something serious. It’s nothing to laugh with – it defeats you mentally and makes you a weaker pray for death.

Then again – sometimes it is a bit funny. My very first heartbreak is something I can laugh with now, and I’ve decided to share it with you.

This is a story that took place when I was six or seven years old. At that age, I didn’t even do ballet. Can you imagine that? I did attend a folk dance class. But okay, that doesn’t really matter now. I was very young back then, but somehow I have always managed to take myself completely serious. I guess it was no different back then. At that age, I in fact did have a boyfriend. Oh yes. I don’t know what we did back then though. I suppose we kind of made a deal – ‘okay, so we’re together now’ – and held hands. Or something. What do you do with a boyfriend when you’re six? I don’t remember.

I don’t remember because I only have one recollection of this relationship that was without a doubt very serious business. That recollection is of my heartbreak. One day I came to school and my boyfriend, attending the same school as I did, refused to talk to me. Or look at me. He just ignored my existence. Of course I didn’t understand. It was more than that – I was devastated. I remember watching the older kids, of whom I thought they were very old and wise. Needless to say they were as childish as you are at age 12. They were playing with a ball, and I was watching them and thinking ‘how can they possibly be happy?’. I couldn’t find that happiness within myself anymore, and it was impossible for me to imagine being happy ever again. My best friend tried to comfort me, but I don’t think it worked.

That’s one real heartbreak. I guess I’ve always remembered it because of that feeling of never being able to smile again. That’s something heavy to feel when you’re six or seven.
Later on my boyfriend declared that he was testing me – thank you, darling – and everything was fine again. Until we no longer were together, I suppose.

*Fast forward*

Fourteen years later on, where are we both now? Thanks to Facebook that’s not hard to figure out. Apparently he has an obsession with kayaking nowadays, and he’s still single. I do believe he’s already working. As for me? I’m going to college, have an obsession with dancing and am still single. But honestly, I don’t think he’s my type after all…

The Sweetest

It was still dark when I left your room, your house and later on your street. I didn’t tell you I was leaving. I murmured I would be gone for a second and then gathered my clothes and took my bag. You didn’t notice, I believe. One last time I looked back and saw a silhouette, yours. Quietly, at peace, happy. I smiled. I stood there and smiled.
Then, as quietly as you were sleeping, I opened the door and not only left your room, but left your life. You didn’t notice, I believe.

It was still dark when I walked home. I had decided to walk, because it made my mind clear. Soon enough the sun would come up and end the darkness. For now I enjoyed the silence on the roads. There was barely anyone awake and I avoided the places where all the drunk people would still be going out. My way home was a great one, silent and happy. How could I not be happy now? This was as close to perfection as it could get. When I got home, I logged in on Facebook and deleted you. I even blocked you, so you wouldn’t find me again. Then I put on a loose shirt and went to sleep.

Recalling what happened before we ended up in your place together made me smile and slowly fall asleep. I slept so well. I haven’t slept so well in ages, it seems. It was just a great feeling. I even smiled when I woke up. I could feel the triumph running through my veins and making my heart beat. I felt glorious. I wasn’t even tired, and got a lot done that day. There was always so much work to do, but today it didn’t bother me. Today I felt like I could carry the world.

I told you I wouldn’t forgive anymore. I told you I no longer wanted to be forgotten about. And you told me it was alright, it was all good, you wouldn’t hurt me. It’s a bit sad, don’t you think? It’s sad to see how people can lie to you, just like that. But see, I didn’t lie. I told you I no longer forgive people, and here we are. I believe you now notice that. You have woken up alone. You even texted me, what you refused to do the first time we met, the time when you told me how you wouldn’t hurt me. I never answered. I broke the line between us. The fine, vulnerable line that caught you, and then me, the one that tied us together until I got my revenge.

I’ve been patiently planning this. I have been waiting and when we finally got to see each other again, I smiled my sweetest smile. We had such a great time, we talked like we did last time. Everything seemed normal and good. Exactly like I wanted it to be. Then you asked me to come home with you and I didn’t refuse. It may have seemed that I hesitated, but I didn’t. I didn’t, because I wanted to rip out your heart like you ripped out mine.

And look. You’re standing in front of my door, confused, longing. The tides have turned.

The tides have turned, my friend! And my revenge is sweet.