One-upped

[Warning: Lots of teenage angst. If you don't want to read any thoughts on a past relationship, you might not want to read this. Sorry, it's all that's on my mind right now.]

Well, as a comic I read this weekend said, call me Mario, 'cuz I've been one-upped. It would seem that dear friend is doing a much better job than I ever was at being a significant other. I hear about them hanging out way more than I think we ever did. Does that mean that I was a horrid significant other? Did I have lesser feelings because I didn't think I needed to see them so often? It was much like that in the end, I guess. Less wanting to be around him. Panicking at the thought of us meeting up, avoiding any contact like the plague. Not even having th courage to end it in person, using the internet like a coward. Of course, that's how it began, so I justified it with saying it was fine for it to end that way, too. I felt bad about it then, felt bad about it a month after, two months after, and I feel bad about it now. Was it the right thing to do? For myself, it was, obviously. I don't think it was healthy for me to feel so insecure that way, even if he himself was doing nothing to make it seem that way. Or maybe he did. Maybe it just got serious way too quickly for my little head and I got worried. Worried about what? I'm not entirely sure anymore. Worrying about everything, I suppose. What I'd get him for his birthday in two months. What we'd do for Valentine's Day. Whether or not I'd panic and chicken out on everything, just seeing him in school. I couldn't even bear to share my feelings about anything. I don't think he really knows how scared I felt, how terrifying it felt to even think about going out, let alone actually doing it. I'm not entirely sue what's up with me, or even if it could be classified as a "wrong". Maybe we rushed it. Maybe I wasn't ready for it in the first place. Maybe I should have listened to my parents. Maybe I got in over my head. No, definitely, I got in over my head. When did it start, though? That first kiss? I was on top of the world then. Nothing could touch me.

Then there was a dip, a mild depression of sorts, as I was thrown off balance by a random act of kindness by someone that I thought was mad at me or something. Ice cream, it seems, is something that can woo easily. After that, everything seemed like it as at the end. Panic. That's the only word I think to use to describe it. My breathing would get irregular, quick, like I was hyperventilating. Maybe I was. My head would feel so full that I just needed to scream, scream and scream and scream. Now, it may be my author-like flair adding details that never existed to the story, but I'm pretty sure that I did feel all of this. Then it was gone. Poof. A little anger over asking if I'd cheat, but that was it. The butterflies were back and I was glad to have them. Things were alright again.

After that, though...it was a trip to Alabama. A month away. He asked if I wanted to...break up, I guess, in case I met someone there. I thought it was a silly idea. Meet someone, in Alabama? I would be hanging around a bunch of college kids. And mostly girls, for that matter. How on earth would I meet someone? And even if I did, there was no way long distance would work. I told him all that, and got a confused response of "?". Then I said that it wouldn't matter, because I didn't need anyone else. That made him happy, I think. Was this another sign that things weren't going well? That I came up with a logical response first instead of the one that his insecure self was obviously fishing for? I realized afterwards that boyfriends don't like logic much. But it was a silly question to ask, wasn't it? "Want to break up in case you meet someone?" For a month in the south? I really, really hope I never get insecure enough to have to ask that.

So, south I went. Worried worried worried all the way there and all the way back. And, then, when school was about to start up once more, I panicked big time. He tried to get together, meet up at the mall with friends or something. I used band camp as an excuse, even though that wrapped up by noon. Then, just weeks before school started up...it was over. Poof. Ended. I found it interesting that no one seemed all that shock-and-awe on my page, no one asked me what happened, save for a Kibbey and an Anna, I think...I wonder what he told them happened. I wonder if he said that I was cowardly, that I simply sent him a message saying I couldn't handle it. It was over. I wonder if they hold it against me.

And now, even though it's been what, six months? I still hurt. Girl codes about asking if it's okay to date an ex always seemed stupid, but...it would've been nice. I would've felt like I was cared about. That she didn't want to hurt my feelings. She didn't even tell me directly that she liked him. She told another friend, and I figured it out through his taunting (Ryan's nifty that way, he is). She was one of the first people I told about my latest crush (gosh, saying it that way makes me feel like a heart slut) and she didn't think that maybe telling me that she liked an ex and he liked her back would be a good idea? What. The. Eff. That's all I really have to say. ...well, not all, really, considering I wrote this huge thing all about it.

But, really, I think that's all I have to say about it. All of this. And, so, I guess I sure AM an honorary emo kid now. ....and so is Emily Turek. :)