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Not a Tear Wasted

I’d like to think that if a book were written about my teenage life, it would be a bestseller. No, award winning really. In addition to the black hole I call high school, I was one of those girls unlucky in love. It might not have been so unlucky, if I hadn’t been stupid enough to fall for my best friend. I don’t even remember when it all came about. Maybe between the long hugs, summer bonfires, working backstage for the spring musical, or maybe there were feelings all along. Maybe I just wasn’t smart enough to realize them until after my third unsuccessful relationship. Everything happens for a reason right?

I remember the day we met like it’s imprinted on my brain. I was a freshman, going into the second day of the school year. I went through my first few classes talking to nobody. I was not yet familiar with anybody, well, not enough to talk to them anyways. I remember making eye contact with the cute boy in my third period English class. I was the first one to break the stare. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my back throughout the remainder of the class. At the sound of the bell, I rushed from the classroom in fear of being late to my next class, Health. I felt silly when I was the first one to show up in the classroom. The room filled quickly though. I began to recognize students from my morning classes. As my eyes scanned the crowded room, I noticed a set of big, spheres of chocolate brown staring back at me. It was him.

My gut told me to ignore his stares and frequent glances all day but I couldn’t. I wasn’t one to shy away from any confrontation. So when he was having trouble getting his book from his locker between Health and his next class, I tapped his shoulder and muttered “Need help?” I just smiled and crouched down to where he was in a heated struggle with his locker.
“I’m Lucy.” My voiced sounded squeaky, dry.
“Andrew, and you know, you don’t have to help me. You’ll be late to class.” He continued tugging on his book without any progress. It took me only a moment to notice that the book cover was snagged on the hinge of his locker door. I reached across his arm to free the fabric from the hinge.
“That would help.” I said with a grin. The shrill of the tardy bell rung in my ears violently. “Don’t worry, I only have lunch.” I added, in response to his comment about me being late.
“In that case, would you like to walk with me to lunch?” His smile made my knees go weak, still does to this day.

Now I’m sitting in my cap and gown, writing this on a sheet of paper found in the girl’s bathroom. Classy, I know. I find myself looking at him still, wishing I would have told him how I felt. Better yet, wishing I never had these feelings in the first place. It’s been four years now. People say that high school tears friendships apart, and trust me, I’ve seen plenty of that. They also say that high school can be the best four years of your life, or they can be the worst. For me, they were the best. I learned what true friendship is, and I learned what love is. Love is wanting what’s best for someone else, no matter how it makes you feel. It’s being happy with them no matter how many times you fight, and cry. And tears that you cry, would never be considered wasted in love. As the time nears for me to walk down the middle of the church and say goodbye to my life, I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but there’s not a tear wasted.





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