Relationships

In the early part of a boy’s middle school life he had begged for a girlfriend, even if not verbally, had  wanted to gain some amount of “coolness” from it. He had wished that someone might like him enough to give him that. And eventually this very nice, sweet girl asked him out and he said yes. He then realized after a few months that he didn’t love her and that they were incompatible, she was going to move soon though and she had a birthday coming up and she had given him a present for his in advanced already, he didn’t want to hurt her but he eventually decided that if he let her hold on to an empty relationship longer than already he had, she’d fall further and harder. So he broke up with her. His first girlfriend. He had broken up with his first girlfriend and even though he had done it in the nicest way he knew possible, he felt terrible. Then after a while he decided that there was a girl he had had a puppy love for for years and eventually decided to ask her out, so, he did so indirectly through what he considered the world’s cheesiest, worst letter of all time. He saw her at lunch the day after and she edged him into asking her out in person after a few minutes. She said yes and they started dating. They would talk and sometimes stay up to pretty late hours. Sometimes even ‘til two, three, or, rarely, four in the morning.  They had nice, friendly conversations and, at points, they even made each other happy. But mostly, mostly they were unaffected by each other on a romantic level. It took about six months or so but eventually they both started looking for ways out of the relationship. It was only a little while before her birthday and when she’d have to move as well. The boy was walking to sit with his friends when one of her friends, one of his future partners, came up to him and said something along the lines of, “Hey, I have some bad news…….” to which he interupted, “Bethany’s breaking up with me?! Thank god!” He sighed, alleviated, and walked away. He was so glad he hadn’t been put up to breaking someone’s heart again. He was glad it was over. And so for another six months or more he spent time enjoying it. He was relatively happy, careless. He stressed about school, but not much else. He had a good life despite any issues at home. But then he fell in love for the first time. The girl from earlier, the second girl’s friend, had become his first love. His first real love. She had just gotten out of a very bad relationship, she said even though she loved him that she wasn’t ready for an official relationship, yet still they talked everyday. He told her he loved her and that she was so great. He had never felt love before. He had never known anything about it. And as she dragged him through the mud over months and let him see her whole beauty, he was dying of doubts, he was drowning in fear. And eventually she turned those fears into tears. She told him she didn’t love him like that and never did. He cried for days. Then, he wrote. He started writing poems and publishing them online for the public to see. He went on for months and eventually was able to see that she wasn’t for him and that even though he did love her, he didn’t anymore, she had hurt him too much. Then, without realizing, he went looking for a rebound. He didn’t care who really, just someone, anyone. He went through every day and even when he could’ve had two or three chances at a relationship each time he hesitated and turned them down, even got turned down once himself. He didn’t love them and just didn’t want to hurt them or himself. He wanted to find someone who cared about him. He wanted someone that would love him so much, but he had to love them just as largely as they did him. And eventually through a time and place when he least expected it, he found an angel, he found someone he loved more than he ever did anyone, he had real feelings for her. And she for him. He had even wrote a song for her, invented a new word for their love with her, and he looked into her eyes and lost himself. He touched her hand and melted. He felt her heart and sung a song without words, without a voice. He truly loved her and she loved him. She had proven that much to him. But as seems a common theme in his life by this point, she had to move. However, unlike the other times, the other girls, his love for this one never died, and never will. He at last is content. He at last is happy. He at last has found his love, his Rose. And Roses are perennial. They will bloom again, year after year. And so will the hope. So will the love.