Pilot: The Mistakes One and Two

4/19/17

     So, here it is. I've never really thought of myself as a blogging kind of person. I don't know what kind of person I am. But I've finally decided I need a space to put down all my thoughts, in their most honest forms. There are a lot of things that have gotten me to this spot I'm in today, and hopefully I'll be able to put them out there in a way that I can make you. and myself, understand. For some reason, I've always had trouble saying my thoughts out loud. I'm not one to verbalize how I'm feeling in fear of confrontation. I know, I know.. I'm working on it. It's hard, though. You know. Some people have such a natural way of confronting people. Me? I kind of just write it down. Being able to compose my own way of saying things without the pressure of the back talk and interrupting is the only sort of control I have over my crazy, Netflix-worthy television series of a life.

    That's why I've created my own safe haven, of sorts. Sometimes, it will be hard. Sometimes, it will make me want to cry, and I will. I'll get out all my frustrations in my safe haven, and I will move on with them. Because this is the new me. I've felt sad and down for too long. It's time to pick up the pieces of my life, and form them into some kind of puzzle. A happy one, I'm hoping. One that includes, but does not limit to, my wonderful new boyfriend, my supportive and no-bullshit best friends, my crazy, infuriating, amazing family, and a new me that will be sure to knock the world's socks off. I'm not ready to give up. This is my next chapter.

     I guess maybe I should begin this story by saying I was a happy kid. It was around the time that I started noticing boys that everything started to spiral downward. The first one I really liked was kind of a dick, well...who am I kidding? He was a huge dick. He rarely thought of anyone but himself, he frustrated me to no end, and I'm convinced that he knew it and used it against me on the daily. But folks, you have to understand, I was in 8th grade and this was an older boy. I was fascinated, infatuated, borderline obsessed with this boy, and yes, I will admit it. I was thirteen years old. I thought it was love, so sue me. Plus, he had that irresistible bad-boy persona that is honestly like crack to thirteen year old girls, I swear. You know the kind. The ones who wear chains on their pants and listen to heavy metal music at full blast down the hallway. It was more of a summer thing, really. He was sweet at first, in a very masculine kind of way. He was into me for the summer, but then when I entered high school, the whole dynamic changed. He ignored me, called me names in the hallway and talked to people who were supposed to be my friends about me behind my back. We won't talk about those people. And no, I won't be using any names in this blog. So if you're looking for the juicy details, go read a trashy gossip mag.

     That was Boy-Mistake Number One. It took me a long time to get over it, because again, I was a thirteen year old girl. I was a freshman in high school; the worst, most awkward stage in a girl's life. As history can point out. I can admit looking back now that it was very dramatic, the way I reacted to this whole situation. It was a painful time. I cut myself a few times, not because I wanted attention, but because I wanted to feel physical pain to distract myself from my emotional pain. I felt alone in it all, even though sure, I had friends and family to talk to, but none of them would ever understand what was going through my head. At least, that's how I felt. Little did I know, that a few of them actually did have some kind of idea. Who would've thought? I also stupidly let my friend give me tattoos with sewing needles, pierced my own ears and lip with my best friend, and I even let my friend's older sister pierce my belly button. I know it was stupid, but I was a kid. At the time I didn't know how stupid I was being. I got over it after pretty much a solid year and a half. I dated a few duds, but none of them were major mistakes. They kind of ended as soon as they started, because I knew they were duds. But after that first boy, no boy could ever make me feel the same way.

     Until junior year of high school. It was around March that I first noticed Him. Creative writing class. I always sat in the back, because I was a junior and the majority of the class were seniors. I didn't like to be seen by people; I was very insecure still from my previous bouts of depression. I sat in the same seat pretty much every day, and after a few weeks of that class, the same seniors had begun to sit in the same three surrounding seats around me. A girl and two boys. We made a square. We hadn't talked very much as a whole, but I talked to the girl sometimes and she talked to one of the boys, and the boys seemed to be friends with each other. But on this particular day, the teacher had asked us to share our writing with each other in the small groups that we were seated in, so we did. The boy in question, we'll call him Number Two, shared his writing, and it was something that spoke to me. It sounds stupid, but his writing actually spoke to me. He wasn't serious about it or anything, but the way he wrote was interesting to me. I began to do everything possible to get to know this boy. I was friends with his friend who I had another class with, and I started to ask him questions about Number Two. I said the three of us should hang out sometime. He agreed. But then, I decided I couldn't wait for that. I had to take matters into my own hands.

     I FACEBOOK MESSAGED HIM. And then, almost instantly, he replied. AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! I was freaking out. We talked, and made plans to hang out for Cinco de Mayo. Days went by, and we got closer. That first time hanging out was kind of awkward at first, but then we became the inseparable kind of best friends where the girl really likes the guy but is too scared to tell the guy because a) she doesn't want to ruin the friendship and b) she's too much of a pussy. Maybe a year went by, and we were really close. I was a senior, and Number Two had graduated and gone to college about an hour away, and there was no way my parents would let me go visit him. For obvious reasons. He came home finally, and I saw him. It was amazing. It was like he had never left. He told me he wasn't going back to school, he was going to go to the community college here. I felt bad for him, but I was secretly really happy because he wasn't leaving again. We went to a concert together in February, our favorite band. I was planning to ask him to prom. Buuuuuut, things don't always go as planned, do they? I pussied out. AGAIN. I got home really late that night, and I texted him to tell him I had a good time. Then I said, "And I was going to ask you to prom but I totally chickened out but will you go with me?" And he said yes, and it was a pretty awesome feeling.

     Prom was magical. I did the hair, the makeup, the fancy princess dress, the whole nine yards, and Number Two did the whole tux thing. He took about five minutes to get ready. I, on the other hand, was rushed out the door and did my makeup in the car on the way to pictures at my friend's house. We had a limo with a couple other people, it was pretty awesome. And I was at prom with my best friend, who I was pretty sure I was in love with. We danced together all night, and my friend swore she saw him try to kiss me but I apparently didn't even notice, the stupid idiot I am. It didn't matter to me, because I didn't want my first kiss with him to be at stupid prom, so cliché (but also would've been a freaking awesome story) with a bunch of my stupid classmates standing around me in a fancy country club with my fancy dress and -- OH who am I kidding, it would have been AMAZING. But oh well, can't change it now. After prom, we went to my friend's house, had a few drinks around a fire with a bunch of people, and the normal high school drama happened there, but we didn't care. We were cuddling under a blanket together by the fire and it was awesome. That's when I had some idea that he felt the same way I felt. But it wasn't until a few days later that he FINALLY kissed me (what the hell takes these boys so long?!). And then we were together. I graduated, went to the same community college, we went through our three-year long relationship, and one day, out of the blue, he decided he didn't want any of it anymore. He said we could take "a break" (WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ANYWAY?) but I knew deep down he wouldn't ever change his mind. "I don't want a relationship anymore, but I'll always love you" were his exact words, if I'm not mistaken.

     It felt like someone had just taken a knife and stabbed it repeatedly into my heart. My world, and my future, as I knew it were crumbling down around me. I had not only just lost my boyfriend, but I had lost my best friend. What hurt the most was that he had been feeling this way for months and never told me. We were on the "break" for about three months before I finally couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take the waiting, waiting for the inevitable. I knew there was no coming back from this. I had to move on, or try. I told him we could be friends, but it didn't feel the same. Things felt awkward; I always felt like touching him. Not sexually, you perv. Like holding his hand, or hugging him, or brushing an eyelash off his face, or straightening his tie, or wiping something off his sleeve. But it felt foreign to me, like I was looking at myself from outside my body, and like this was all just a horrible dream that I'd wake up from in the morning. I soon realized that it wasn't, and I had to try and move on, as painful as it was. Number Two was my first ACTUAL love, I can confidently say, because Number One couldn't hold a candle to him, but he wouldn't be my last or only. For a while after him, I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't feel joy, I couldn't sleep, I could barely eat, and I was drinking a little bit excessively. I couldn't find myself anymore. I went on a few dates, but none of them were Number Two.

     

     Months went by, and I was living with my brother, my sister-in-law, and my nephew working as their nanny. I played on the PlayStation a little too much, I see that now, but for this particular reason I'm extremely thankful for that. One day I was randomly matched up on a mission in a game with this guy, and in this instance I'm going to use his name because he is in no way, shape or form a mistake. So Chris and I were matched up, and there I was, babbling over the microphone, not knowing (or caring) whether he could hear me, just messing around like usual. And all of a sudden my internet kicked me out of the game, but I had seen his gamer tag and I went back and quickly added him as a friend. He accepted me, and I messaged him telling him the game kicked me off but I'd like to play with him again.

     The next day, I finally heard his voice. It was like music to my ears. I'm telling you, I heard it and instantly knew he was going to be an amazing person. Sure enough, he was. We began texting, and still hadn't even seen each other's faces. Then I sent him a picture of myself (VERY nerve-wracking) and he sent one back (SO HANDSOME!) and I silently rejoiced. Actually, I'm lying. I was in my car in a parking lot of the grocery store (ice-cream run) and I quite loudly rejoiced. I screamed and bounced up and down in the seat, and I probably looked like a complete idiot. But seriously guys, that's how beautiful he was to me. I made it my personal mission to get this man to fall in love with me. We began texting NONSTOP, playing games online together NONSTOP, talking on the phone. He quickly became my best friend, and my confidante, and my everything. I fell in love with him way more quickly than he fell in love with me. I knew he was selfless, kind, generous, sweet, loving and caring, and so, so supportive. I still had not laid a hand on him, but it didn't matter to me. I was head over heels. I still am.

     Yes, Chris is my boyfriend, my best friend, my other half. He may live far, and it may torture us every day of our lives, but we can get through it. Honestly, I've never felt so strongly about anyone in my life. He makes Number One and Two look like chumps. He makes them seem so irrelevant to my life, although they are what got me to this point. Without them, I wouldn't have been through the things I've been through, or felt the things that I've felt. They make me who I am. So cheers to you guys, I had to go through some real assholes to get to this sweet, amazing hunk of a man whom I love with all my heart. This is the first chapter of The New Me, so stay tuned.

xx