It’s been exactly two months since I’ve seen him. It’s driving me crazy. He told me that he’d call. He hasn’t even texted me. I’ve called, I’ve texted, I’ve emailed, everything: Nothing. Not even a hey, how are you? My eighteenth birthday has come and gone. He always told me that somehow, he would come see me that day. I guess it’s pointless to say he didn’t, ‘cause obviously...


But let me tell you how it started; about us. You probably think I’m an obsessed psycho. Come to think of it, you aren’t too far off. But you don’t know..


It’s second semester, senior year. I am sitting in my usual seat, ten minutes early like I usually am, when he walks in. He hands the teacher a note and smiles at him. I wish that he would smile at me. He looks over at me, and I drop my eyes down to the notes on yesterday’s lecture. Even though I was trying to ignore him, I could feel him staring at me from the seat right next to me. I look at him. He has blond hair that’s cut close to his head. He has gray eyes. I asked him what he wanted. He asked me out on a date.


I wore a black dress with a red bow in my hair. He wore jeans and a brown leather jacket. He took me to the park, where he had set up a picnic for our third date. He laughed at the way my shirt refused to stay down. I laughed at the look n his face when I shoved grass down his shirt. He leaned over to me, and he touched my lips with his. His touch left me tingling and searching for breath. I smiled at him and looked down at my hands. He put a hand on my chin and kissed me again.


He told me that he loved me. He told me that I was the only girl he wanted. I told him that I couldn’t live without him. He kissed me and the tingling just wouldn’t stop. My head started feeling funny, and my heart was racing. He began to unbutton my dress, and I didn’t stop him.


He began to talk to other girls. His attention started to drift. I gave him my entire being.


He told me that he had to leave; a new job for his dad in another state. My birthday being two weeks away, he said that he would be there for it. I said that I would never forget him. He said that he would call me. I gave him my locket. He gave me flowers.


I stare at the flowers. The petals wilting, crumpling, and falling. No calls. No texts. Nothing. I watch another petal begin it’s descent, and I imagine that I am the flower. My petals growing weak, and my stem beginning to fail me. The bee doesn’t buzz around me anymore. It’s taken what it wanted. I am nothing now. Just a withered flower.