Let Me Down in Pieces This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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     It really is funny how life works. I have this urge to be in love with someone and have him love me back with the same intensity but, for some reason, every time I think I am getting close, it turns out that it was just a kiss. It was just a cuddle. It was just something that meant nothing. It was just something, something very far from love.

I suppose I’m not allowed to complain. I suppose that I do this to myself. I find relationships frustrating. I want something that means something, not just someone to fool around with. I must give off some vibe, though, because every boy who touches me is repelled the next day. No one wants a “leave flowers on my porch and make mix tapes for each other” relationship, they just want to make out and run away.

I remember this boy with bright blue eyes, the kind that burned right through every lie I would try to tell. Those eyes made me want to just breathe and smile and never, ever move again. I seriously thought that he was the boy I could love who would love me back. Then he broke my heart, because it turned out each kiss was just that: a meaningless kiss.

What is the worst part of all of this? It means something to me. There should be force fields around people who are just going into these situations for kicks, or a big neon sign around their necks. Big, ugly ones that read “I will break your heart.” Because it’s really not fair that when our lips meet, I am smiling because I am beginning to fall and he is smiling because he thinks I am gorgeous and kiss amazingly.

By the next day he has told his friends that he, like, totally hooked up with me and I’ve told my friends that I am, like, totally falling for this amazing boy. His friends patted him on the back and my friends just shook their heads.

Funny how even when I run into him again, I still feel the same, even though I know that he doesn’t want anything from me, except maybe more kisses. I can’t manage to tell myself that I should forget it. My mind plays dirty tricks on me. I have perfected the art of lying to myself. I think, Maybe if I just hold him a little closer and kiss him a little longer, he will fall for me. I know it is a lie and I try not to look in his death-defying bright blue eyes. I try to mumble through the whole situation. I just hope he doesn’t ask if I was hurt. I hope he doesn’t ask and beg for honesty. None of that honesty garbage.

I know, I know life isn’t supposed to be fair. That would take all the fun out of it. But it really isn’t fair that I fall for boys when they refuse to fall for me. Maybe something really is wrong with me. Maybe if I didn’t give in so easily to gorgeous eyes, I wouldn’t be hurt so much.

I really do believe that I am hurting myself more than any boy ever has. They never say anything to make me think they adore me, I just keep thinking it. Why would a boy hold me so close and kiss me so deeply if he weren’t falling in love with me?

I kiss these boys like I need kisses. I hold them like they are the last person in the world and I want to keep them close. When I giggle with them, I do it like I am still a child. And we smile and joke and hold each other so close it hurts. But then, when it’s over, they grow back up too fast and leave me in this dream we created together.

This is entirely my problem, I know. I know. I fall in love fast and I get hurt. My sensitivity is unmatched by the most fragile child. But I won’t change because even if it is only a kiss, I get to pretend they care. And I’ve never had that.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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