February 15, 2012
By Anonymous

I would lie in my bed in my dark room, where the shadows seemed to mock me by dancing around with each other like Cinderella and Prince Charming at the ball, or like my father, sister, and I at a father/daughter dance we attended many years ago. That is now a distant memory that can only be conjured up when I look at the picture in the heart shaped golden picture frame, lying at the end of the bed. This created enough tears that they rolled slowly down my face, one every couple of seconds. I had calmed down by then just letting them fall to my pillows that were moist enough that they would need to be flipped before I could finally fall asleep after several hours of crying and listening to heartbreaking songs that made me know that I was not the only one going through such emotional pain, but not making me feel any less alone. That had been my evening for several weeks, ever since the boy, who was the first to have my heart, took it and broke it into two, giving half of it back to me when he broke up with me and proceeded to beat the other half relentlessly when he told me the reason.

Remembering all of the times that happened over our on and off three year relationship made me question whether or not love was real or if it was just an emotion some hopeless soul made up to justify the hurt that was shaking her whole body after her significant other left because she wanted candlelight dinners, long walks on the beach at sunset, and kisses in the rain in a beautiful dress, now known has romance. That must have seemed obsolete to him and he wanted nothing to do with it, all he wanted was a wife to bear children and clean the house while he went to work. Love just seemed like an over used word used by couples who would break up a week later because the ever so popular reasons of having “family problems” or needing to “focus on school” when the real reason was that they found someone else they thought would “love” them and thought they would “love” more, and I decided I wanted nothing to do with love anymore because loving only leads to loss.

However I did date every once and a while because I liked having someone pay attention to me but the attention was not what love was about, it revolved around my need to hear the word love and to fulfill his personal needs of a sexual relationship. I thought maybe if I heard the word, love, for long enough by one guy then I would start understanding where the girl was coming from when she used a four letter word, to describe how she felt about a man, that was unheard of in the world they lived in. But after the guys I was with got what they wanted they would leave before love could come to life.

Eventually I wanted love to be real, I wanted love to engulf me when I stared into their eyes, I wanted love to spark to life when we kissed. So I went searching but I went searching in the wrong place and my first real relationship’s last good-bye turned into one of many more to come. History did repeat itself except I did not turn into my same pathetic self crying alone in my room, eventually I just became numb to the lies and the fake announcements of love he would give me in his drunken states and became the same heartless individual he was in hopes that some feelings would come back; they never did.

I was fed up with him and all of the lies, all of the guys who used me so I left finally for the last time just this time it was on my terms and it was the best thing I have ever done. I even marked the day on my calendar as “the best day ever!” because I was finally free to find out what love really meant because I knew from all of the love songs, relationships that last till the day they die, and the way people, at my work, look when they are talking to their fiancé, or boyfriend of three years that there is something inside that puts every single emotion you can imagine together as one and even after all of that you still want to be with that special someone forever.

But people kept leaving me, probably because of the walls I put up when things became serious because I was still scared, terrified actually and I put on a smile for everyone to believe was real. But one guy I have known since middle school, who I never thought I would fall for, saw past the smile I put on and now the smile is real. “I never even wanted to give you the time of the day,” he said once when we talked about the way we felt for each other. “But when I did I wanted to give it to you all of the time.” He painted all of the walls beautiful colors so when I get scared and put up the walls I see his masterpiece and am not afraid anymore. He made me remember what it is like to love and be loved right back. I will never give up on true love now.

Now when I am lying in my bed, about to go to sleep, instead of wiping my eyes of tears I am wearing a smile on my face and my heart is full of love.

The author's comments:
My English teacher wanted every student to write a personal narrative and I thought I would write about my feelings of a few years ago to make my friends understand what happened and why I changed.

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